The rewriting of Kankarima rewrites the Kankarima into a narrative

Farmers rarely have leisure time throughout the year, especially during the wheat harvest season in May, when people are doubly busy. At night, a south wind blew, and the fields were covered with wheat, and everywhere they were golden.

The girls and daughters-in-law carried food boxes on their shoulders, and the children carried pots of pulp in their hands, beckoning each other to bring food to the fields, because those young men were harvesting wheat in Nangang.

They lowered their heads to harvest wheat, the hot and humid earth steam under their feet, and the scorching sun shining on their backs. I was already exhausted, but I still couldn't care about the heat, I just wanted to cherish the long days of early summer and be able to do more work.

There was also a poor woman standing beside them with a small child in her arms. She held some fallen ears of wheat in her right hand and a worn bamboo basket in her left arm. Listening to her words as she looked at everyone, everyone couldn't help but feel very sad.

In order to pay taxes to the official family, she had already sold all her farmland, and now she picked these ears of wheat just to fill her hungry stomach.

What credit and prestige do I have? He did not farm or harvest mulberry, but he had 300 stone in a year, and at the end of the year, there was still surplus grain in the warehouse. As I meditated on this, I felt more and more ashamed in private, and I could not forget it all the time.

It's very simple, just follow the translation of the reference book and add a little description of the scenery. For example, "The south wind rises at night, and the wheat is covered with yellow", add a paragraph here that describes the night, the moon, and so on.

Add a little bit of a passage about the night.

Farmers have few days to spare, and families are doubly busy in May.

Last night a south wind blew, and the wheat was covered with brown in Longgou.

Women carry bamboo rice and rice bowls, and children carry clay pots of soup.

After moving forward, he went to send him to the field, and the young men were working in Nangang.

His feet were steaming with the rustic air of the summer day, and his spine was scorching with the fiery sun.

I don't feel hot when my strength is exhausted, but I just want this summer to be long.

There are also those poor mothers-in-law, holding babies by their side.

In his right hand, he picked up the lost ears of wheat, and in his left arm he carried the tattered basket.

Listening to their words to each other can't help but cause me infinite sadness:

My family's harvest was fully taxed, and this leak was used to suppress the famine. ”

Now I have no merit and virtue, and I have never been engaged in farming sericulture.

From the ninth grade to eat Lu rice is enough for 300 stones, and there is still surplus grain at the end of the adult price.

I am not secretly ashamed to think of this, and I can't forget it all day long.

興 (yì) wheat.

The Tian family has few idle months, and people are busy in May.

The south wind rises at night, and the wheat is covered (fù) 陇 (lǒng) yellow.

女姑荷 (hè) 箪 (dān) 食 (shí), 童稚 (zhì) carries pot pulp (jiāng).

相随饷 (xiǎng) Tian went, and Ding Zhuang was in Nangang (gāng).

The feet are steaming in the summer and the earth is hot, and the back is burning (zhuó) in the hot sky.

I don't know the heat, but I regret the long summer.

There is a poor (pín) woman with a child beside her.

The right hand is bǐng, and the left arm is suspended.

Listen to their words, and those who hear them are sad (wèi).

The family field tax (shuì) is exhausted, and this is to fill the hungry intestines.

What merit do I have today, I have not been a farmer.

吏 (lì) 禄 (lù) three hundred stone (dàn), years of Yan (yàn) have surplus grain.

I can't forget this self-ashamed (kuì) for a long time.

Translations. Farmhouses rarely have a free month, and people are busier when May comes.

During the night, the south wind blew, and the wheat covering the ridges was ripe and yellow.

Women carry rice in bamboo baskets and children carrying syrup in pots, and follow each other to bring food to those who work in the fields, and the men who harvest wheat are all in Nangang.

The feet are fumigated by the heat of the ground, and the spine is baked by the hot sun.

Exhausted, as if not knowing that the weather is hot, just cherishing the long days of summer.

And he saw a poor woman, holding her child beside the harvester, picking up the lost ears of wheat in her right hand and a broken basket hanging from her left arm.

Listening to her look at others and talking, everyone who heard them felt sad for her.

Because he paid rent and taxes and sold all his farmland, he had to gather some ears of wheat to fill his hunger.

Now I have no merit and virtue, but I don't have to engage in farming.

He received a salary of 300 stone and rice a year, and there was still surplus grain at the end of the year.

I feel ashamed to think of this, and I can't forget it all day long.

The Tian family has few idle months, and people are busy in May.

The south wind rose at night, and the wheat was covered with yellow.

The woman and aunt are eating lotus, and the child carries the pot pulp, and goes with the field, and Ding Zhuang is in Nangang.

Enough to steam the summer and rustic, the back burns the sky, and I don't know the heat, but I regret the long summer.

There was a poor woman with her son beside her, her right hand holding a spike, and her left arm hanging from a basket.

Listening to their words, those who hear it are sad.

The family land lost all the taxes, and they were hungry.

What merit do I have now, I have not been a farmer.

There are 300 stones, and there is surplus food in the year, and I am ashamed to read this, and I can't forget it.

Guanjia Maibai Juyi (then the county lieutenant of Xukuo).

The Tian family has few idle months, and people are busy in May. The south wind rose at night, and the wheat was covered with yellow.

The woman and aunt eat lotus, and the child carries the pot pulp. He went with Yutian, and Ding Zhuang was in Nangang.

The feet are steaming in the summer and the sun is burning in the back. I don't know the heat, but I regret the long summer.

There is a poor woman, holding her son by her side. The right hand holds the ear, and the left arm hangs the basket.

Listening to their words, those who hear it are sad. The family land lost all the taxes, and they were hungry.

What merit do I have now, I have not been a farmer. There are 300 stones, and there is surplus food for the year.

I am ashamed to remember this, and I will never forget it.

--All Tang Poems, vol. 424 6

Guanjiamai (Tang) Bai Juyi.

The Tian family has few idle months, and people are busy in May.

The south wind rose at night, and the wheat was covered with yellow.

The woman and aunt eat lotus, and the child carries the pot pulp.

He went with Yutian, and Ding Zhuang was in Nangang.

The feet are steaming in the summer and the sun is burning in the back.

I don't know the heat, but I regret the long summer.

And there was a poor woman, with a child beside her.

The right hand holds the ear, and the left arm hangs the basket.

Listening to their words, those who hear it are sad.

The family land lost all the taxes, and they were hungry.

What merit do I have today? I didn't do anything about farming.

There are 300 stones, and there is surplus grain in the year.

I am ashamed to remember this, and I will never forget it.

How do you want to rewrite it? What are the requirements?