清明節的高一英語作文

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清明節的高一英語作文1

Qingming rain have, the pedestrian on the road. I ask where there are restaurants? The shepherd boy points at Xinghuacun." The song "Qingming" Du Mu, give us sustenance to miss, separated by thousands of years, in the rainy spring, lonely silence. The preface

I often think: Qingming Festival is a traditional festival, probably not too popular, then think of dead relatives and friends, many people can not help feeling that the tears trickling down cheeks, king, who can be happy?

But at least Im happy for them.

Qingminggrave, except as far as the dust in front of the tomb, placed as offerings of fruit, snacks. Burn a few incense, curl smoke rising, shrouded in front of the tombstone, lonely and sad. Perhaps, it was a nameless tomb, and the tombstone stood alone on the field. But thats where a living life is sleeping. That is not the borderlands, that is their ultimate love, blessing family; the final chapter.

At the time of the Qing Dynasty, the rain was drizzling, the breeze rustled over the cheeks, like the sad music of the funeral. Relatives, friends are sleeping in this vast land, and maybe hundreds of years later, maybe thousands of years later, they will eventually come back to dust. And here it is their final destination, the end of their life. But there is no final chapter in life, and the smile in the clear is the last mourning of friends and relatives...

Outing in the Qingming Festival, we dont know who, I think, in the past the Qingming, a verdant grassland; through the morning dew in a meadow; walk, that a warm grass. Looking for those who leave forever, the traces they leave here, with their yearning for the dead and their last attachment to the world.

Qingming, tomb sweeping is mourning for the dead man; Qingming, rain, is the natural comfort of their loved ones; Qingming outing, is for the dead man.

Qingming Festival is our proof of the last traces left by our friends and relatives in the world, proving that they live in the world as a fresh life.

Ask: "the pedestrian" why "deep sorrow"? Because, they, in remembrance in Miss, also in miss! How long can a persons life be? It may be very short, and it is too long to pass away inadvertently. At the moment that is about to die, it remains in a lot of peoples hearts, never die out.

In this article, I remember it.

清明節的高一英語作文2

The wind of March is filled with the fragrance of spring, passing through the fields and flowing through the edge of the spring. The long drizzle dampened the land of the April. Unwittingly, we have ushered in this years clear clear. "At the age of 100" cloud: "all things are clean and bright and clean growth at this time. So it is clear that it is clear. "

"Good rain knows season, when spring is happening." After the Qingming Festival, the rain is growing more and more. It is a good season for all the earth to grow. The fields that a green water green jointing; river embankment that arouses the tree. The rain washed the earth. Boys Piccolo sounded the prelude of country labor. From the back of the ox over long whistle floated into my mind.

Qingming rain have, the pedestrian on the road. I ask where there are restaurants, the shepherd boy points at Xinghuacun". Tomb-sweeping Day has grave worship custom, in this one day return to the countryside and gently wipe on the dirt, and also those complicated customs Shiqu hearts. The heart and the countryside tightly together, drinking wine home to the old Huaiyuan burma. The intoxicated side will know more about it.

This years Qingming Festival reminds me of more people and more. Over the past year, the pain has wet the memory, the past year has sorrowful cry years.

Qingming Festival is coming. Do not know whether they are watching the land in the heaven. They live and live in the land. Said Qingming rain is the enemy of tears. This years Qingming Festival has not rained, and perhaps our tears and their tears have already dried up in May last year.

The rape flowers off the Western Sichuan plain days just opened, a piece of gold charming eyes, these days a few days of rain, the flowers have lost. I used to see the man cry last year. Who knew last year that the brilliant Brassica flower was the last time they saw it. Perhaps the flower fragrance of the hometown will float to heaven, let the flower fragrance go to their yearning.

The distant whistle again, sad, dim and blurred. A series of Acacia in the kingdom of heaven is also stranded on this side of the land.

The annual festival in May each year, like intense thoughts such as wine.