Who can help translate this article? Thank you very much! ! ! I need it online right away, not English translation software, but normal and fluent language, thank you.

In his poems, Wei Ye Zhi often praises ceremonies and their civilized qualities. Without real civilization, in fact, it is impossible to exist. Strangely, even as a child, in a small county town in Texas-I was completely unknown in Ye Zhi, I believe-I gave ceremonies and ceremonies to reveal this little event. I have a dog, a little red dog named Ou Ma, who joined us as an estrus bitch and was treated by a group of bastards-thus getting good luck, just like other stray dogs I got, including my third. The first day I was in my barn for her. Later, she gave birth to the tails of five black hounds, and we cut off the sharp scissors in time, just as we even indulged artificially. But one day in summer, when I was supposed to be twelve, it met a tragic fate: I started 47 GM's, and something appeared-and the past. This is Ou Ma. Ou Ma is dead. So we need a funeral that suits her status and dignity. Soon I rounded up my brother and my two cousins, and we had neatly boxed Ou Ma, made a wooden cross, and left-with shovels, bibles, and my shabby trumpet-for hidden valley, a few miles outside the city. Our studebake stuttered on the dirt road until we finally reached our destination. Then we opened a hole in the poplar tree in a bank stream, and then we gently lowered its box, and the solemn ceremony passed by shoveling the old box for each of us, tearless and solemn, sprinkling earth. With the Bible in hand, I turned around and the generation reading Ecclesiastes disappeared and replaced it. Then, finally, trembling, I brought a trumpet to my lips. Thin, trembling, out-of-tune melody sounded its grave cross was driving home. We know, naively, that Alma is resting in the valley where peace is always hidden.