Ancient poems about Double Ninth Festival, ancient poems about Double Ninth Festival

Ancient poems about Double Ninth Festival, ancient poems about Double Ninth Festival
The Double Ninth Festival is a time of clear and cool autumn weather. Want to know more about Double Ninth Festival? The beginning of every month is a new chapter, and the same goes for the lunar calendar and fortune. If you want to know more about the lunar calendar and fortune for the ninth month, please visit the September 2021 special topic on Shuimoxiansheng.com. The Ninth Day in Shu by Wang Bo of the Tang Dynasty
On the ninth day of the ninth month, at the Wangxiang Terrace, he holds a farewell banquet for his guests from a foreign land.
People are tired of the suffering in the south, so why are the wild geese coming from the north?

"A Letter to Zhang Wu from Mount Lan in Autumn" by Meng Haoran of the Tang Dynasty
In the white clouds of the Northern Mountains, the hermit is contented.
I try to climb up to a high place to see you, but my heart disappears with the flying geese.
Sadness arises at dusk, and excitement starts in the autumn.
Sometimes I see people returning to the village, walking on the sand and resting at the ferry.
The trees on the horizon are like shepherd's purse, and the island by the river is like the moon.
When will you bring wine so that we can get drunk together on Double Ninth Festival?

"On September 10th" by Li Bai of the Tang Dynasty
We climbed the mountain yesterday, and today we raise our cup again.
Why are chrysanthemums so bitter that they have to suffer two Double Ninth Festivals?

"Remembering My Brothers in Shandong on the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month" by Wang Wei of the Tang Dynasty
Being a stranger in a foreign land, I miss my family all the more during the holidays.
I know my brothers are climbing the mountain, but there is one less person wearing the dogwood branches.

Climbing the Heights by Du Fu of the Tang Dynasty
The wind is strong and the sky is high, the monkeys are howling sadly, the sand is clear and the white birds are flying back.
The endless fallen leaves are rustling down, and the endless Yangtze River is rolling in.
I am often a guest in a vast land in a sad autumn, and I am alone on the stage due to illness for a hundred years.
I am suffering from hardship and bitterness, and my hair is turning white. I have just stopped drinking. "Ode to White Chrysanthemums at the Double Ninth Festival" by Bai Juyi of the Tang Dynasty
The whole garden is full of golden chrysanthemums, with a single cluster that looks like frost.
It is just like today’s singing and drinking party, where an old man with white hair joins the young people.

Climbing Mount Qi on the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month by Du Mu of the Tang Dynasty
The river is filled with autumn shadows and wild geese are starting to fly. I take a pot of wine with my guests to Cuiwei.
It is hard to smile in this world, so I must wear my hair full of chrysanthemums when I return home.
But I will get drunk to celebrate the festival, and there is no need to climb the mountain to regret the setting sun.
It has been like this since ancient times, why should Niushan be the only one to get wet?

Double Ninth Festival by Song Wentianxiang
My hair is disheveled as I travel thousands of miles away, and I see the old sycamore tree in my hometown in the autumn
The new moon fills the river and lake as the geese roost; the setting sun leaves the empty alleys as the swallows bid farewell.
How can the fallen leaves calm the flowing water? The yellow flowers have no owner and are blown by the west wind.
How much regret does the universe have? The day before yesterday at Longshan was like a dream.

"Drunk in the Flower Shade" by Li Qingzhao of the Song Dynasty
The thin fog and thick clouds make the day long and gloomy, and the fragrant agarwood melts the golden beast. It’s the Double Ninth Festival again. The jade pillow and gauze curtain are chilly in the middle of the night.
After dusk, I drink wine in the east garden, and my sleeves are filled with a faint fragrance. Don’t say that I am not heartbroken. The curtains are rolled up by the west wind, and I am thinner than the yellow flowers.

"Intoxicated by the East Wind - Double Ninth Festival" by Guan Hanqing of the Yuan Dynasty
Inscribed on the red leaves and clear stream in the Imperial Canal, people admiring the yellow flowers are drunkenly singing in the singing tower. The sky is long and the shadows of wild geese are sparse, the moon sets and the mountains look thin, it is a cold and lonely time in late autumn. The withered willows and the cicadas are filled with sorrow. Who would be willing to send me wine in white clothes?

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