An old custom in the south of the Yangtze River. In the past, when a child was born, a few jars of wine would be buried under a tree, and they would be dug out to drink when the child grew up. If it is a boy, wait for the child to win the gold medal in high school and entertain guests at a banquet. When drinking, the wine is called "Zhuangyuanhong". If it is a girl, the wine will be given as a dowry when the daughter gets married. When she drinks it, the wine will be called "Nuer Hong". If the son unfortunately dies young, the wine will be called "Secret Diao". If a daughter dies in infancy and her beauty fades before she gets married, the wine will be called "Huadiao" and will be drunk with relatives and friends on the day of mourning to commemorate the early withering of the fallen flower.
That is "withering"
So the poem "Withering Flowers" is about the early death of my daughter (I cried every time I heard it before)
Yes An old saying goes like this: If you come to the altar and your daughter is red, you will never drink Huadiao
The end of the word also mentions "I hope I will never taste it again in this life"
There are three editions of the poem. "Withered Flowers"
If you have any questions, please feel free to come to me in Class 2 of Love Poems (Class 2's Lingering Flower Carvings ())
Attached is the lyrics of Withered Flowers 1
< p>The wind is getting warm, and the spring peaches are foldedThe father wishes the little girl to inherit the wonderful flowers
The daughter red wine for eighteen dynasties
The apricot is slim when it first grows
New Liu Yao on both sides of the long street
Qingzhuan Qianta has a weak marriage relationship
The father hopes that his daughter will marry well
So he refuses all kinds of invitations from others
p>
How can the bamboo horse come quietly
Sitting under the tree and looking at the moon
How can the green plum come to talk
The peach blossoms exchange love< /p>
You taste and drink peach blossom sculptures
Have you ever known that flowers wither?
A jar of love lasts and two hearts burn
Three or four words Five or six tears
How can I express my sorrow
Try and drink the peach blossom sculpture
Have you ever known that the flower withered
If You can exchange this for peace and quiet
A jar of wine is broken
I hope I won’t taste it again in this life