Poetry about homesickness is modern.

1. Modern poems about homesickness 1, Yu Guangzhong's homesickness.

When I was a child, homesickness was a small stamp. I'm here and my mother is there.

When I grow up, homesickness is a narrow ticket. I'm here and the bride is there.

Later, homesickness became a temporary grave. I'm outside and my mother is inside.

Now, homesickness is a shallow strait. I am here and the mainland is there.

2. Xi Murong's Homesickness.

The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan, which always rings with the moon at night;

The face of hometown is a vague disappointment, like a wave of parting in the fog;

After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old.

3, Xu Lizhi's' Homesickness'.

Let the curved moon, again and again;

Cut my thin homesickness into blood

4, Changyao' Homesickness'

He is very sad. He misses his own fast valley.

There, near the bare rock of the cliff, his yak leisurely licked the grass under the snow line.

On the grass beach, one of its foals is lifting its hoof.

Open the shallow water in the bend of the river and run to the other side of the mother animal, grinning in panic and coquetry.

The sun there is thick glaze and the air there is filtered by ice and snow.

Mixed with the aroma of cream, grass leaves and yeast. ...

I am a homesick shepherd under a street lamp.

Sleepwalking and my destiny?

Five, Bing Xin's "Homesickness"

The future only shines with uncertain starlight, but when I look back, I see the fluttering flag of love.

For our hometown, we are children!

Can't be a Zhuang language, can't bear to be a Zhuang language, and won't be a Zhuang language!

2. Write a homesick modern poem 1 and look at my hometown-Yu Youren buried me in a high mountain and looked at my hometown; Hometown is intangible and can never be forgotten.

Bury me in the mountains and see my continent; The mainland is invisible, only crying. The sky is grey, the wilderness is vast, and Shan Ye is a state-owned ruin! 2. Homesickness-The song of Xi Murong's hometown is a flute in Qingyuan. It always rings on a moonlit night, but my hometown's face is a vague disappointment, like waves in the fog. After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old. Homesickness-When Yu Guangzhong was a child, homesickness was a small stamp. When my mother grew up there, homesickness was a narrow ticket. I'm here and the bride is there. Later, homesickness became a temporary grave. I'm outside and my mother is inside.

1. Creation background of Homesickness: In his later years, Yu Xiansheng hated his motherland being divided, and he could not return to his roots. He deeply misses his long-lost relatives in the mainland, with regret and pain.

1962, 83 years old, seriously ill. He knew that he was going to die soon, so he thought about the future: "In a hundred years, I will bury the heights with many trees in Yushan or Alishan. People with high mountains and big trees can always look at the mainland. My hometown is Chinese mainland "(diary 1962 65438+ 10/2).

Shortly after that, 65438+ 19621October 24th, Mr. Yu Youren wrote a poem "Looking at Hometown" in his diary with sincere and depressed feelings. 2. Homesickness-Xi Murong's writing background: This poem was written in the early 1980s, when Taiwan Province Province and the mainland could not communicate openly.

But many people in Taiwan Province Province, including overseas travelers, live overseas and have a heart for the mainland. Xi Murong's hometown is in Mongolian grassland. She was neither born nor brought up here. It was not until the 1980s that she had the opportunity to set foot in her hometown.

Only in her dreams and in her poems can she be entrusted with her infinite homesickness. It is in this context that the poet inherited the eternal theme of homesickness in traditional culture and wrote this tender but sincere poem "Homesickness".

3. Homesickness-Yu Guangzhong wrote this poem in 1972. Yu Guangzhong's ancestral home is Yongchun, Fujian. He left the mainland for Taiwan Province Province on 1949.

[5] At that time, due to political reasons, Taiwan Province Province was isolated from the mainland for a long time, which led to Yu Guangzhong not returning to the mainland for many years. He has always missed his loved ones and longed for the reunification of the motherland and the reunion of his loved ones.

With strong homesickness, the poet wrote this poem in his former residence in Xiamen Street, Taipei. Baidu Encyclopedia-Looking at Hometown Baidu Encyclopedia-Homesickness (Yu Guangzhong) Baidu Encyclopedia-(Xi Murong).

3. The modern poem "Under the Full Moon" about homesickness is full of moonlight and nobody cleans it. Then fold a Zhang Kuo lotus leaf, wrap it in moonlight, and put it in Tang poetry.

Flat, like suppressed acacia ... moonlight has the fragrance of lotus leaves. Homesickness Yu Guangzhong's homesickness as a child is a small stamp. I was here when my mother grew up here. Homesickness is a narrow ticket. I was there when the bride was there. Homesickness is a short grave. I was outside when my mother was inside. Now my homesickness is a shallow strait. I'm on the mainland side and homesick there. The song of Xi Murong's hometown is a Qingyuan flute, which always rings on a moonlit night.

The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment, like a wave of farewell in the fog. After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old.

The heavy dream of Daoxiang season hangs on the vast fields, and the fragrant breeze blows away the farmers' infatuated dreams. Not moved, but colorful golden waves in the festive atmosphere are swinging in the arms of the water town. It's like drinking thousands of glasses of wine. When the fertile fields are fragrant for thousands of miles, Wangxiangtai boarded Wangxiangtai, looked up at the sky with her feet under the mountain, and sent a touch of Feng Yun to her hometown. There is no Lin Taoshan Road around, which is curved and narrow. Only the road from my hometown leads directly to Wangxiangtai. I saw the mountains and water in my hometown and the pine trees in front of my house. It's like my grandmother's homesickness for years. Hometown is the old wine brewed by Youzi with millet. The longer it lasts, the more mellow it tastes.

When I think of my hometown, I miss it quietly. Hometown is full of delicious food, which tempts travelers from afar to taste it.

When I think of my hometown, I miss it silently. Hometown is a fragment of a wanderer's childhood memory. The more you manage it, the more you can't control it, and the more you can't piece together a complete picture.

When I think of my hometown, I miss it in my heart. The longer I miss my hometown, the deeper my experience of my hometown and the greater my touch on my soul.

Hometown, how do wanderers miss their hometown? Missing my hometown is actually missing my childhood friends, old houses and land. However, what the wanderer misses most is his elderly parents.

Hometown, miss my hometown, miss my hometown for no reason. Whenever I face the bright moon, I miss my hometown like a flood.

Hometown, homesickness, no need for any excuses. Wanderers miss their hometown all the time.

& gt2 Mid-Autumn Moon, the moon is in the sky, sending lovesickness thousands of miles away, and a bright moon is hanging high, which reminds me of my infinite leisure and wandering attitude, more pious than pilgrims. Looking from a distance, the same full moon over the northland, I hope it can shine on the glow of my hometown. Can you bring back my warm and moist tears and wash my face? The call in my ears suddenly rises under laurel, shining on my mother's kind face, and falling among the flowers is my father standing in the sunset. Autumn rain is gentle. How far will the wandering duckweed fly, and how far will the wandering footprint extend with the thread of missing? How wide and deep will the blood of family ties penetrate? I'm sorry for the heavy debt on the moon. When can I do my duty? It was once a dream for an eagle to fly over its hometown snowfield in the moonlight. Looking back, is the fruit of first love still hanging on the laurel of memory, emitting fragrance on this moonlit night? The bleak autumn wind makes a floating heart colder and colder. The autumn moon and the drizzle are flying in the night, and the high tide in the chest breaks through the missing river bank and floods. The mountains in my hometown are so green, the water in my hometown is so green, the clouds in my hometown are so light, and people in my hometown miss my hometown every day. I hope people will meet with the green mountains, green waters and white clouds after a long separation. The homesick song of Xi Murong's hometown is a flute in Qingyuan, which always rings on a moonlit night. The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment, like a wave of farewell in the fog.

After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old.

4. Write ancient poems and modern poems about homesickness 1 "Homesickness" Homesickness ice and snow melt in the embrace of the warm sun, and the grass grows green all over the world. When the east wind blows the poet's wine that hurts spring, the sunset slowly falls with the flying flowers in March. In March, I dragged my long figure around the streets of a foreign land, and my face in a foreign land was cold and indifferent, watching every passerby in a hurry weave into a thin piece like endless silk rain. I have been living in a wandering mood and I am very disappointed. I leaned against the shabby door of an inn and stared at my hometown. My dream home is a foggy village. The flower cat snores and crouches by the needle and thread of the loving mother. The cuckoo is whispering in her ear, so it is better to go home. We are all chess pieces crossing the river. There is no retreat, and there is no turning back. Distant homesickness is paid to the soil dripping with sweat. The persistent belief is deeply buried in my forehead. In my hometown, there are village girls dressed in red and green, all of which are familiar and unfamiliar to me. I haven't seen the ancient sea otter for a long time, which once again took me back to my youth. The old trees at the entrance of the village are still there. My grandmother stood under the tree waiting for me to come back. Now I am eager to find the old figure that seems to remind me all the time, until the tears of memories overflow my heart. The lovely cuckoo flew to the clouds and swept straight to the foot of the side dome. Stepping on the wet grass and dancing with the wind is my hometown that I miss day and night. How can I forget this? How can I forget this? The deep homesickness precipitated in my heart 3. The evocative piccolo returns in the afterglow. Mother, the East can't stay long. In the tropical ocean where the typhoon was born, the air pressure in the North Pacific was very low in July.

Come back, mom, the south won't stay long. On the equator in July, the one-way moxibustion on pedestrians' feet by the sun train. Come back, mother, the north can't stay long. In the white reindeer kingdom, there is no rest night in July, only daytime.

Come back, mom, you can't stay in a foreign country for long. The small urn dreams of being next to the French window, accompanied by the plants you planted yourself.

Come back, mom, and protect your town after the fire. Spring is coming, and I will tread the wet and cold Qingming Road and bury you in a small grave in my hometown.

Bury you in Jiangnan, a small town in Jiangnan. Willows hang down to your grave. When spring comes, you should dream of a girl and your mother.

On the Qingming Road, my footprints will be deep, and the willow's long hair will be dripping with rain. Mother, my memory will drop and my soul will come back. Mother, come and protect this empty city. When I die, when I die, bury me. Between the Yangtze River and the Yellow River, my head is resting, and my white hair is covered with black soil.

In China, the most beautiful and motherly country, I slept peacefully, slept all over the mainland and listened to both sides. Requiem begins with the eternal music of the Yangtze River and the Yellow River, flowing and facing the East. This is the most indulgent and spacious bed, and people can sleep contentedly. Once upon a time, a young man from China once looked west in the frozen Michigan, hoping to see the dawn of China through the darkness, instead of going home. He used China's eyes 17 years of gluttony maps, from West Lake to Taihu Lake, and then to Chongqing with birds and flowers.

Homesickness was a small stamp when I was five years old. When my mother grew up there, homesickness was a narrow ticket. I was there when the bride was there. Later, homesickness became a temporary grave. I was outside when my mother was inside. Homesickness is now a shallow strait. The first six hours in mainland China brought me a ladle of Yangtze River water. The drunken taste of the Yangtze River water is the taste of homesickness. Give me a ladle of Yangtze River water. Ah, Yangtze River water, give me a red Zhang Haitang, a red begonia, and a red boiling blood. Burning pain is the burning pain of homesickness. Give me a red Zhang Haitang, a red begonia, a white snowflake and a white letter. Waiting for a letter from home is homesickness. Give me a piece of white snow, a piece of white snow, and mother's sweet wintersweet. Give me a mother's sweet smell of wintersweet. It's the cricket. Mr y, a poet in Taiwan Province province, said: overseas, crickets are heard at night. It's that cricket, flapping the golden wind with its steel wings, jumping across the strait, landing quietly over Taipei and singing in your yard every night. It was the cricket that sang in July, in the Tang style cricket, in the nineteen ancient poems, beside Mulan's loom, and in Jiang Kui's words. It was the cricket that sang the bonfire of the Great Wall by the post road in the mountains. In the courtyard of the hotel, I sang in the weeds on the battlefield, I sang among lonely people, I sang among wounded soldiers, I heard crickets singing in your memory, I sang in the surprise of my childhood, I sang in the loneliness of my middle age, I thought of carving bamboo as a cage, I thought of moon cakes, I thought of pomegranate fruits covered with pearls, I thought of flying yellow leaves in my hometown, I thought of geese flying south, and I thought of piles of haystacks in the fields. Many, many, many crickets in an alley in Taipei are singing, crickets in a village in Sichuan are singing, and everyone in China is singing everywhere, which is more monotonous than monotonous music and more harmonious than the most harmonious voice. Water is dew burning into light, jade fire turns into birds, partridges crow in the hearts of native speakers, crickets sing outside your window, singing outside mine, and you are listening to you. Miss me, I'm listening, I'm singing. Oh, you should guess what I'm singing and I'll guess what you're thinking. China people have the thinking of China people, while China people have the ears of China people.

5. Poems about "Homesickness"

1. I often go, Yangliu is Yiyi; Today, I think it's raining heavily-The Book of Songs. Xiaoya. Pick Wei.

2. Elegy can be wept, but it can be returned to China far away-Elegy, a folk song of Han Yuefu

3. Humayu follows the north wind and crosses the south branch of the Bird's Nest —— Nineteen Ancient Poems by Han.

4. However, an inch of grass, enjoying three rays of spring, how much love is there-Jiao's "Wanderer"

5. Now, approaching my village and meeting people, I dare not ask a question-Du Da Yu Ling by Tang Song Wenzhi.

You people from my old country, tell me what happened there! When you passed my window, was the plum blossom Han Mei's flower? -Three miscellaneous poems by Wei.

7. The foot of my bed is shining so brightly. Is it frosty already? Looking up, I found that it was moonlight, and it sank again. I suddenly remembered my hometown-Tang Li Bai's Thoughts on a Quiet Night.

8. Where is your hometown? Only when you are drunk-Song Liqingzhao's Bodhisattva Man

9. I miss my relatives more during the festive season-Wei's "Mountain Residence Sacrifices the Silu Brothers".

10. I don't know who will fall tonight-Wang Tangjian's "Looking at the bright moon for Du Langzhong on fifteen nights"

1 1. Everyone gradually feels strange in the local accent, but they hate the sound of warblers like old mountains-five books by Tang Sikong.

12. Looking at the lake in front of the door, the spring breeze does not change the old waves-Two Couples in Hometown by Tang He Zhang Zhi

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14. He knows that the dew will be frost tonight, and how bright the moonlight is at home! -Tang Du Fu's Remembering Brothers on a Moonlit Night.

15. Don't be sad, be sad, be sad, and be separated-Nine Songs of Warring States, Chu and Qu Yuan, Live Less.

16. The day of parting is far away, but the day of wearing clothes is slow-nineteen ancient poems in Han Dynasty. Travel again.

17. Think before you go to the wild goose-Sui's "Every day someone misses home"

6. Nostalgic modern poetry and wine.

Lan Shu

Thirty years ago.

You look at me from the top of the willow tree

I am young.

Niyuan

People are also round.

Thirty years later.

I look at you from the top of the coconut tree.

You are a glass of country wine.

You are a man.

Homesickness is also full.

When I die,

When I die, bury me in the Yangtze River and Yellow River.

Suddenly, my head was resting, and my white hair was covered with black soil.

In China, the most beautiful and motherly country,

I slept peacefully, on the whole continent,

Listen on both sides. The requiem starts from the Yangtze River and the Yellow River.

Two eternal music, surging and facing the east.

This is the most indulgent and spacious bed.

Let's sleep contentedly and think contentedly,

Once upon a time, there was a young man in China.

Looking west in frozen Michigan,

Want to see the dawn of China through the night,

With the eyes of China who was not embarrassed for seventeen years.

Gluttonous map, from West Lake to Taihu Lake,

Go to Chongqing, where there are many partridges, instead of going home.

homesickness

-

Author: Yu Guangzhong

In childhood

Homesickness is a small stamp.

I'm at this end

Mom is over there.

Homesickness is a narrow ticket when you grow up.

I'm at this end

The bride is over there.

See you later, huh?

Homesickness is a low grave.

I am outside

Mom, ah, it's in there.

But now

Homesickness is a shallow strait.

I'm at this end

The mainland is over there

homesickness

Xi Murong

The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan.

It always rings with the moon at night.

The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment.

Like waves in the fog

After parting

Homesickness is a tree without rings.

Never grow old.

Hours later

Homesickness is a small piece of blue sky in a room.

I'm stunned.

Lost track of time

When I grow up

Homesickness is a warm shoulder.

I lean back.

Until sunset

We'll talk about it later.

Homesickness is a long green ticket.

I looked down.

Left the motherland

Now

Homesickness is a solemn national flag

I sighed.

The passage of time

7. According to homesick poems, writing five unique modern poems makes chrysanthemums interesting and autumn rhyme more charming.

Hedgehog chrysanthemum fragrance floats on the sleeve, and you are intoxicated in the wind. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Waves and shadows dance gracefully, and Yuanyang dialect is full of profound meaning. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The soul haunts thousands of Baidu, and the moonlight hurts autumn. The meaning of drunkenness is not because of drinking and dreaming, and the years are heavy.

Prosperity will eventually go away, but it is hard to find it again. There are two reasons for drunkenness and dreams, and the breeze is Kyushu.

When the window is talking, you can only look at a river and worry. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

There are tears at night, but there is no trace of spring. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Running water is far away, and fireflies fly to illuminate the moon. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Five Wonders: Jiangnan women are gentle Jiangnan women, sparkling and shadowy.

Bing Xin is like a jasper, and the smiling willow contains smoke. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Sisuo in a quiet night, Li Bai, the thread at the foot of my bed is so bright, can there be frost already? .

I looked up at the moon and looked down, feeling nostalgic.