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Traditional Festival Tomb-Sweeping Day

Qingming Festival

Festival custom

Tomb-Sweeping Day, also known as Walking Festival, March Festival, ancestor worship festival, etc. , originated from the early human ancestors' beliefs and the custom of worshipping spring. This is the biggest ancestor worship festival of the Chinese nation. Qingming, a solar term, is full of vitality, and everything "spits out the old and absorbs the new". The earth presents a scene of spring, tranquility and peace, which is a good time for the suburbs to step into the spring and be clear.

Tomb-Sweeping Day is an important carrier of inheriting faith and family ethics. All kinds of customs and habits reflect the humanistic spirit of the Chinese nation, which is cautious about respecting ancestors and pursuing the future. People pay homage to their ancestors and express their filial piety and yearning for them.

Planting trees, before and after Qingming, saplings have high survival rate and fast growth. So Qingming has the habit of planting trees.

Eating green balls is a dietary habit in the south. Is to use the word "green" to match the word "green" in Qingming.

Famous poems

Qingming Tang du mu

During the Qingming Festival, there are many rains, and pedestrians on the road want to die. Excuse me, where is the restaurant? The shepherd boy pointed to Xinghua Village.

Song Su Shi's Dream of the 20th Day of the First Month in Jiang Ji

Ten years of life and death are two boundless. Never think, never forget. A lonely grave thousands of miles away, desolate and nowhere to talk about. Even if we don't know each other, our faces are dusty and our temples are frosty. When night came, my dream suddenly came home. Xiao Xuan window, get dressed. Care for each other without words, only tears thousands of lines are expected to break the heart, and the moon and night are short and loose.

Ding You's Qingming Festival, a hundred-word order, Qing Li E.

Spring is getting old, and I hate what I worry about every year, but spring can be restrained. Shuang Yan language is always empty, and the wicker is broken. Looking at the sky with white eyes and blue robes like grass, I feel lazy when I sing. In Chengmen Lane, the fallen flowers are full. Thinking of the foggy moon, at that time, I was used to playing with my friends in the old city. After laughing at Taoren, a few leaves are black and You Lan. Throwing elm money at random, dripping tung milk, still makes the hairspring spin. Where are you looking? That's as far as the sky, as close as the mountain!