Original ancient poem - funeral flower chant
Flowers blossom and fall without words, branches and flowers thank who has mercy?
Dongjun Xin brewed spring face, gossamer flew fluttering Qiong curtain.
Spring sorrow ten thousand points in the middle of the people, hurt spring love drifting where?
Good rain Cui hoe endured stepping on the flowers, and the wind shook the willow silk leaf ginseng.
Peach blossoms with makeup smile spring red, pear blossoms self-solution as snow flying.
Peach red willow green after a few degrees, who is the bridesmaid's face changed?
The incense nest has become a pity, and the wind and rain are merciless.
Next year, the flower color is still good, and people go to tea cool and empty.
Three hundred and sixty-five nights, the sword cold sword frost rivers and lakes wind.
A few branches of flowers are sad, and it is difficult to find them when stepping into the rivers and lakes.
Flowers fall and tears are who knows, and the red incense is buried in the flower people.
Tears sprinkle incense hoes alone, and blood stains flowers and branches see tear marks
The cuckoo cries the blood moon on the hook, shouldering the flower hoe into the court door.
Cold lights and candle shadows are accompanied by tears, and the cold rain is not warmed.
Man grows and grows to hurt the gods, and pities the spring and annoys the spring.
Pity the spring good scene annoyed the spring sorrow, go to the wordless annoyance and smell.
Outside the peony pavilion, there are sad songs, and there are flower souls or bird souls.
The soul of the bird mourns alone, and the soul of the flower cries blood is always sad.
Borrow and breeze the wings, and fly with the flowers to the head of the cliff.
Tianya Road is far and winding, is there a fragrant hill on the road?
Holding a bag of incense bones, the blue blood in the soil hides the wind.
Proud bone ice heart is clean, helpless dirt fell out of the ditch.
Go to Huangquan to throw the soil, and remember when you died?
Erjin buried flowers laughing at slaves, he buried slaves in his years do not know who?
Spring to the flowers fall when the branches are lost, and Shaohua scatters people to die!
Time flies through the red face of the old, flowers fall and people die who can know. #I love to write poetry ##葬花 #
