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The Qingming Festival painted by famous artists is Qing.

Another Qingming Festival, another day to remember the martyrs. We went to the tomb to pay tribute to the souls of the martyrs who are buried here. Standing in front of the martyrs' tombs, our hearts fluctuate and our thoughts are full of thoughts.

Some of the revolutionary martyrs sacrificed their precious lives for national independence and national dignity; In order to completely bury the old world and establish a socialist new China, some went forward one after another, fought bravely, threw their heads and shed their blood; Some of them sacrificed their youth and blood for the prosperity and strength of the motherland during the period of peaceful construction. Martyrs, at a time when the Chinese nation was facing the danger of life and death, it was you who built the Great Wall with your own flesh and blood and fought hard against the Japanese imperialist invaders. You have fallen, but thousands of "people who do not want to be slaves" have risen, singing the "March of the Volunteers" to carry on your unfinished business; Martyrs, it is you who have turned your love for the country and the toiling masses into the spiritual strength to fight the enemy in battle, are not afraid of sacrifice, move forward bravely, and establish a new China in which the people are the masters of the country; Martyrs, at the moment when socialist construction is most needed, it was you who left everything in your family and personal background, stood up without hesitation, selflessly dedicated your precious lives to the motherland and the people, and sprinkled your blood all over the motherland.

How can we not be in awe in the face of you? Your brilliant achievements will be deeply engraved in the annals of history! Your name will shine with the sun and the moon, and coexist with the rivers!

We admire you, heroes of selfless dedication! It is precisely because of you, the countless revolutionary martyrs, your nobility, and your selflessness that we have today's peaceful environment and the prosperity of the motherland. The war years have shone on the courage and strength of the martyrs, and the peaceful and beautiful environment has provided us with opportunities to learn knowledge, develop talents, and dedicate ourselves to the motherland.

We have faith because we have examples! Students, we are the lucky ones of the times, we should understand that a happy life is not easy to come by, and we should understand the historical responsibility and mission we shoulder. We must love ourselves, but also love the motherland, we must study hard, add glory to her, and add color to her!

Students, let us inherit the legacy of the martyrs, study hard for the construction of our hometown and the prosperity of the motherland, and create a better tomorrow!

During the Qingming Festival, it rains a lot, and pedestrians on the road want to break their souls. By asking where the restaurant is. The shepherd boy refers to Xinghua Village.

Inscription. The swallow flew south, and there was a time when it flew back. The willows withered, and there was a time when they were green again.

The peach blossoms are gone, and there is a time to bloom again. But dear grandpa. You've been buried in this cold cemetery for a long, long time.

The granddaughter is close to you, but she is separated by yin and yang, and she can't see you even after a thousand calls. How can this not make the granddaughter sad, painful, and full of melancholy.

The happiness of the Qingming Festival in my memory has long been gone. Without grandpa's Qingming Festival, even the sky is gray. The endless drizzle made me feel sad. Cold wind, please tell the Broken Intestine Man that the grandfather who loves his granddaughter like that won't come back anymore.

Through the misty rain, I saw the familiar hillside again. The grass is still so tender and green, and the colorful wildflowers are blooming lonely. And the green green canopy that no one picks.

All of this made me feel very deafening. The scenery is still the same, but grandpa is long gone. The picture reappears again, under the blue sky, a little girl holds the spool of a kite and runs happily.

Isn't the kind old man who followed him grandpa, why is his face so pale, why doesn't he stop to rest, I understand that he is reluctant.

The picture was blurry and clear, and the little girl followed her grandfather to obediently pick green canopies. In the old man's nagging, the little girl knew about the Qingming Festival, the Qingming fruit, and that's it. Careless little girl, why don't you see the sadness in the eyes of grandpa, who is prolonging the happiness of the little girl with his last strength.

I know that I have no choice but to die.

Grandpa is gone, and in the years of thinking and waiting, I have grown up day by day. I finally understood that the swallow could fly back again, but my grandfather could never come back when the willow was green, and I spent my time with the frequent thoughts and the annual Qingming Festival.

I always like to put vivid images into the old days.

It is used to mask the quiet streamer.

And some forgotten warm twilight.

I believe that there is a night like that, and it can be done in another way.

There was another encounter, no longer so shocking.

It's always in full bloom.

The spring was still cold, and God was still stingy and refused to transplant the pink to the tree.

Spring is still barren before Qingming.

In the evening, bright and soft thoughts are scattered all over the place.

It is in the pen of another poet, putting life into it.

As long as you're willing to put your life into it.

Well, this spring can really be quiet.

Tender, a little shy, and prosperous.

All the colors and lines of Qingming are grazed into a sad gray cold.

Blood-colored peach groves, and intoxicated butterflies.

Once possessed and forsaken, fresh wounds and wet loneliness.

Always with the age of time.

Leave no trace, fly away, just leave an illusion.

The yellowing and brittle past is withdrawn inch by inch.

Unthinkable, unthinkable, unmeasurable, unbreakable, fragile for years, free from pain.

And those real rivers.

Qingming is only suitable for walking at night, there is no starlight.

No lights, lost, lost again.

At night, it gradually stiffened, indifferent as ice, and calmed down.

Poker face. Clarity can only be looming, if there is nothing.

Only then can you pack up the lotus heart of refuge.

Hold on to the distressed place, soaked for a moment.

Reaching out and trying to grasp something, the thirsty flowers burned.

Wither in another window, perceiving the presence of the wind.

The catkins are scattered.