Stories about ancient poems

Cao Zhi's "Seven Steps Poem"

Boiled beanstalks and burned beanstalks, liquefied black beans to make juice,

Beanstalks burned under the kettle, and beans cried in the kettle,

Being born from the same root, they were all born of the same root, but each other is too anxious to be fried!

Story: Cao Zhi was the youngest son of Cao Cao, and was loved by his father because of his talent since he was a child. After Cao Cao's death, his brother Cao Pi became the emperor of Wei. Cao Pi was a very jealous man, and worried that his brother would threaten his throne, he tried to get him killed.

One day, Cao Pi called Cao Zhi to come before him and asked him to make a poem within seven steps to prove his talent in writing poetry. If he could not write it, he would be deceiving the emperor and would be put to death.

Cao Zhi was sad and angry when he realized that his brother intended to kill him. He forced himself to endure the grief in his heart, and tried hard to think about thinking ...... Sure enough, he made a poem within seven steps, and read it out on the spot:

The beanstalks are under the kettle, and the beans are crying in the kettle.

They are born from the same root, and they are too anxious to fry each other!

II.

Meng Jiao was thinking of his mother

The story goes that during the reign of Emperor Dezong of the Tang Dynasty, Meng Jiao was the lieutenant of Liyang County in Jiangsu Province. One night, he was reading a book in his study. After reading for a while, he felt a little tired, so he stood up and walked to the window. At that moment, the moon was shining in the sky and the evening breeze was blowing gently. He looked up and gazed at the bright moon, and a feeling of homesickness came to him.

Thinking back to his own decades of hard study, until the age of fifty to win the scholar, do a small county lieutenant. These decades, the old mother for himself to pay much effort ah! Every time he went to the capital to catch the examination, before leaving the door of the gray-haired old mother is always busy, prepare for their own travel clothes. Especially this time out the night before the day, the mother sat in the dim oil lamp, stitch by stitch for their own sewing clothes. As she sewed, she whispered, "Sew a few more stitches, and sew them tightly, so that they will be strong and wearable. Go out to take care of your health, come back earlier, do not let mother at home miss ......" At that time, listening to his mother's heart-warming words, looking at his mother's wrinkled face and frosty white hair, Meng Jiao's heart a burst of sour, his eyes moist ... ...He y felt that how great mother's love is, just like the warmth of the spring sunshine.

When Meng Jiao thought of this, a wave of passion reverberated in his chest. He returned to his desk and wrote:

The thread in the hands of a loving mother, the clothes on the body of a wandering son.

The thread in the hands of a loving mother, the clothes on the body of a wandering son.

Whoever says that the heart of grass is the heart of grass is the heart of the sunshine of three springs.

Third,

Lu You, a patriotic poet of the Southern Song Dynasty, was repeatedly attacked by the peacemakers because of his insistence on fighting against the Jin Dynasty. In 1166 AD, at the age of forty-two, Lu You was dismissed from his post. With no way to serve his country, Lu You returned to his hometown of Shanyin (present-day Shaoxing, Zhejiang Province), filled with grief and anger. He shut himself up in his house all day to study, often accompanied by a green lamp, sitting alone until late at night.

In April of the next year, the countryside was full of drums and whistles in preparation for the Spring Festival (a day of worship to the God of Land), and there was a joyful atmosphere. Lu You suddenly wanted to see the Western Mountains twenty miles away. So he set off with his walking stick. As he walked, the mountain road gradually circled up. After another hour or so of walking, the crowds gradually thinned out. When he ascended a slope, look out, the mountains in front of him, the road is cut off, as if it is impossible to move forward. Lu You interest is strong, refused to turn back, along the hillside and out of a few dozen steps, turned the corner, suddenly not far ahead, there is an open valley, a small village hidden in the green willow and red flowers (dark flowers), as if the legend of the Peach Blossom Garden. Lu You was very happy, into this small village, simple clothing, innocent villagers with their own brewed wax wine hospitality to the guests.

With this unforgettable experience and feeling, Lu You regained his vigor. He wrote "Traveling to Shanxi Village":

Don't laugh at the muddy wine in the farmers' house,

The guests were treated with chicken and dolphin in the year of harvest.

There is no way out of the mountains,

There is another village in the darkness.

The drums and pipes follow the spring festival,

and the ancient style of simple clothing survives.

From now on, if you are free to ride on the moon,

crunching on a stick and knocking on the door at night.