What are the poems related to the number nine?

China has been in cold weather for several years since the winter of November. Astronomical experts said that "the Ninth Five-Year Plan" is a more applicable solar term in northern China, especially in the middle and lower reaches of the Yellow River.

From the winter of the solstice, I entered the "number nine", commonly known as "over nine". From then on, every nine days is called "Nine". After nine "nines", it is exactly eighty-one days, that is, "nine out". At that time, spring was blooming.

In ancient times, especially in northern China, the conditions for working people to keep warm from the cold were simpler than their descendants. Winter is regarded as a threat and punishment, which directly affects people's mood and even makes them feel that winter is inexplicably long. At that time, in order to survive the long winter, the people of China invented the method of "counting nine" to pass the time, so as to alleviate the psychological crisis under the threat of winter. At that time, it was a carefree state to count nine around your family.

Another winter, in the cold wind, there was a dead silence, and slowly there were no people in the field, only writing about small animals foraging. Perhaps this is the reason why Liu Zongyuan's poem "An Old Man Fishing in the Cold River-Snow" came into being. The most representative thing about the ancient poems about' 99' in winter is to look at the previous poems about dispelling cold and combine' 99' with the dynasty change of the Chinese nation.

Jiang Xue (Liu Zongyuan). There are no birds flying over those mountains, and there are no traces of people in those paths. A boat on the river, a fisherman wearing his webworm moth; Fishing alone is not afraid of snow and ice. Plum blossom (Wang Anshi). There are some plums in the corner, and cold ling opens them alone. I knew from a distance that it wasn't snow, because there was a smell coming. Operator Yongmei (Mao Zedong). Spring leaves in the storm; With the snow, it came back. Although the icicles on the cliff are still hanging for miles. There is a sweet flower in it. Joe doesn't fight for spring, he only reports it. When the flowers bloom, she laughs in the bushes.

There are many poems related to the number nine, so I won't list them here. Interested people can search online!