The Dragon Boat Festival, also known as Duanwu Festival, is a traditional Chinese holiday that is celebrated on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, which usually falls in June on the Gregorian calendar. The festival has a history of over 2,000 years and is celebrated in many parts of China and around the world.
The Dragon Boat Festival is named after the dragon boats that are used in the traditional dragon boat races, which are a central part of the festival. Dragon boats are long, narrow boats that are decorated with dragon heads and tails. Each boat is manned by a team of rowers who paddle to the beat of a drum. The races are held in rivers and lakes across China and are a symbol of teamwork, strength, and perseverance.
The origins of the Dragon Boat Festival are rooted in Chinese mythology and history. One of the most popular legends associated with the festival is the story of Qu Yuan, a poet and statesman who lived during the Warring States period (475-221 BC) in ancient China. Qu Yuan was a loyal and patriotic official who was exiled from his home state of Chu after he was falsely accused of treason. In despair, he threw himself into the Miluo River and drowned.
The people of Chu were devastated by Qu Yuan's death and raced to the river to try to save him. They beat drums and splashed their paddles in the water to scare away the fish and prevent them from eating Qu Yuan's body. They also threw rice dumplings, known as zongzi, into the river as a sacrifice to his spirit.
Today, the Dragon Boat Festival is celebrated in many different ways. In addition to dragon boat races, people also eat zongzi, which are pyramid-shaped dumplings made of glutinous rice and filled with different kinds of meat, vegetables, and sweets. Zongzi are wrapped in bamboo leaves and steamed or boiled, and are a symbol of the tradition and culture of the festival.
Other common activities during the Dragon Boat Festival include hanging mugwort and calamus leaves on doorways to ward off evil spirits, drinking realgar wine, and wearing fragrant sachets to repel insects and disease.
Overall, the Dragon Boat Festival is a time for people to come together to celebrate their culture, history, and traditions. It is a time to honor the memory of Qu Yuan and other heroes who have sacrificed themselves for the good of their country and people, and to reflect on the values of loyalty, patriotism, and unity.
More information about Quyuan:
Qu Yuan was a Chinese poet and politician who lived during the Warring States period (475-221 BC). He was born into a noble family and served as an official in the state of Chu, one of the seven warring states of the time. Qu Yuan was known for his patriotic spirit and his efforts to promote social and political reforms in Chu.
Despite his many achievements, Qu Yuan fell out of favor with the Chu court and was exiled from his homeland. During his exile, Qu Yuan wrote many poems expressing his love for his country and his sorrow at its current state of political turmoil.
Legend has it that Qu Yuan drowned himself in the Miluo River as a final act of protest against the corruption and injustice of the Chu court. The people who admired him raced to the river in boats to try to save him, but it was too late. In honor of his memory, the people of Chu began the tradition of dragon boat racing and eating zongzi, a type of glutinous rice dumpling wrapped in bamboo leaves, on the anniversary of Qu Yuan's death.
Qu Yuan's poetry has had a lasting impact on Chinese literature and his story is still celebrated today as a symbol of Chinese patriotism and cultural heritage.
About the Creator
David cen
Share Chinese Sory,which you never heard before.China has 5000 years history and it is A kingdom of artifacts.Such as Chinese Kongfu,Qigong etc.
Keep Calm and Burn
Ding One minute. That’s all I need. Want. One minute to myself to stare at this little digital flame. One minute. Crap, I’ve already lost the thread. Stop thinking. Breathe. In, out. In, out. Oh, Georgie get your fingers out from under the door. I just need one minute. Why’d I choose the bedroom for this? It’s not like it’s some kind of sanctuary. I know what’s happened here. How would I choose anywhere in this apartment? Oh, stop knocking Georgie. Where is your sister? I just wanted one minute to myself. She can’t watch you for one minute? Probably scrolling through her ex’s posts. That girl needs to move on. Girl needs to help out with Georgie. Okay, okay. Breathe, breathe, just breathe. Georgie’s moved on. I can focus. Oh, he’s crying. Why is he crying? Where is his sister? She probably made him cry. Where is his father? Maybe he made him cry. God, one minute. One Minute! How is it not over yet? One thousand four hundred forty minutes in a day and I just want one. Just to stare at this little fake fire. This tiny, little light. This little light of mine…NO. Breathe. Remember to focus on the breath. I’m going to fail at this, too. One minute. I’m not going to get a quiet minute to myself until I’m dead. Probably not even then. Maybe after the wake. If my husband ponies up for one. Probably not. Just propose a toast to me at the buffet, beer in hand. Maybe he would if he could find a way to invite any of his whores. They better keep their tears to themselves. I don’t need their sympathy. Breathe. Don’t think of them. How is this not over yet!? I can’t do this. Can’t even forget them one minute. Not when he’s gone, not when he’s around. These thoughts take my breath away. Make me so angry. Make me want a real flame. A torch. One of those classic Indiana Jones’ torches. Instead I’ve got this silly little app telling me to keep calm, carry on. How can I carry on? He’s already carrying on for the both of us. Breathe. He says he’s better. He’s been home more. Still not sure if that’s better. At least it’s a new problem. He says he’s better. That’s what he says. What he’s been saying. Do they matter? His words? Why am I thinking about this? Breathe. I shouldn’t have done this. Not here. There’s no calm here. Out there, in here. Just a raging fire of thoughts ready to burn me from the inside out. Maybe if he was gone I could put them out. Maybe it would just set a whole new blaze. I just don’t want to think. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. Not thinking. Just breathing. Maybe I’ll try to tequila next time. Seemed to help him him forget me. Like a freakin’ memory loss elixir. I couldn’t live like that. Can’t live like this. The thoughts are too much. Just one minute in a crowd of other horrible minutes. That. Never. Stop. Is that it? Is that all the time it takes to end a marriage, one minute? No. This minute’s not to blame. It’s all those other minutes that just keep coming back. All those minutes he stole from us. Oh, Georgie. I can still hear him sobbing. Why aren’t they helping him? Am I the only one that can hear him crying?
By Shaun Walters3 days ago in Fiction
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