Jiang Mu's Godson's Translation of Selected Works of Qing Dynasty in Classical Chinese.

1. Translation of Classical Chinese Jiang Mu Jiaozi When I was nine years old, my mother taught me The Book of Rites, Zhouyi and Shi Mao, and I could recite them by heart. Whenever she has time, she copies the poems of Tang and Song poets and teaches me to recite ancient poems. Mom and I are both weak and sick. Whenever I am sick, my mother will hold me around the room without sleeping. When I was a little better, she pointed to the poem posted on the wall and taught me to recite it in a low voice as a game. When my mother is ill, I always sit by her pillow. My mother looked at me, often without saying a word, very sad, and I was also very sad to be attached to her. Once I asked her, "Mom, aren't you happy?" She said, "I'm not happy." "Then how can I make my mother happy?" She said, "I'm glad you can recite what you have read." So I endorsed it, and the sound of the book was mixed with the boiling sound of the medicine pot. Mother smiled and said, "Look, I'm cured!" " "Since then, my mother was ill, so I took a book and read it at her bedside to make her better.

When he was nine years old, his mother gave him The Book of Rites, The Book of Changes and Shi Mao, all of which were recited. In his spare time, he recorded Tang and Song poems and taught them to sing. Both mother and servant are sickly. Every time a servant is ill, his mother holds him in a room and never sleeps. Less recovery, you need to refer to the poems between the walls and teach your children to whisper. When the mother is ill, the husband will sit by the pillow. Mother saw the whole, but she was silent and sad, and the whole was attached to it. Tasting Day: "Is Mom worried?" Said, "Of course." "But how can I solve my troubles?" Yue: "I can recite what I have read, and I can understand." The chanting is loud, and there is a heated debate about medicine. Mother smiled and said, "The disease is not that bad." Therefore, if the mother is sick, the whole family will endorse it, but the disease can be cured.

2. Translate the original text of Jiang's adopted son and mother in classical Chinese.

Four years old, mother's day awarded four books and several sentences; Poor children can't write, but they carve bamboo branches into silk, break them, bend them into waves, make words, and sit on their knees to teach them. Once you know, you can tear it down. Practice cross during the day, and all the staff can read with bamboo silk tomorrow, that's right. At the age of six, I started writing books. Thinking of my mother's teaching, the achievements of knitting and embroidery are similar; Put a book on your knee so that the whole servant can sit on his knee and read. Mother's hand is at her mercy, dictating sentences, reading sentences, and her voice is rolling around. If his son is lazy, it will be less in early summer. He cried with his son in his arms: "If I don't study, how can I see your father!" " It was very cold at night. My mother sat on the bed, covered her feet, took off her chest, warmed her back and carried her back. Tired of watching, I slept in my mother's arms. Suddenly my mother shook her hand and said, "You can wake up." Looking at my mother's face, I burst into tears, and all of them cried. Less time, repeat reading; Cock crow, lie silent. The aunts said to their mother, "I have a sister, so why bother?" Yes: "There are many sons; What can my sister do if the child is unfilial? "

When he was nine years old, his mother taught him The Book of Rites, The Book of Changes and Shi Mao, all of which were recited. In his spare time, he recorded poems of Tang and Song people and taught them to sing. Both mother and husband are sick. My husband is sick, and my mother is holding her husband and walking in a room without sleeping. Less recovery, you need to refer to the poems between the walls and teach your children to whisper. When the mother is ill, the husband will sit by the pillow. Mother saw the whole, but she was silent and sad, and the whole was attached to it. Taste asks, "Is mom worried?" Said, "Of course." "But how can I solve my troubles?" Yue: "I can recite what I have read, and I can understand." The chanting was loud and clear, and it was in chaos with the sound of the medicine tripod. Mother smiled and said, "I am less ill." Because my mother is ill, I hold a book and recite it by her side, but the illness can be cured.

To annotate ...

Four books: The Analects of Confucius, Mencius, University and The Doctrine of the Mean.

Zhé: the strokes of a word. Wave, skimming; Hey hey.

Bi: All, all.

Chen: Let it go.

Left and right: both sides.

Ren: Whatever.

Early summer: ancient school corporal punishment equipment. Xia means "Jia Mu", which means "Mu Jia Mu". Chu, Vitex negundo.

translate

When I was four years old, my mother taught me a few words about the four books every day. Suffering from the fact that I was too young to hold a pen, she cut bamboo branches into filaments, broke them, bent them into pictures, spelled a word, put me on my knee and taught me to read. When you know a word, tear it off. Teach me ten words every day, and the next day let me spell the words I knew the day before with bamboo silk until there are no mistakes. When I was six years old, my mother told me to learn to write with a pen. My grandfather's family was never rich. After several years of famine, the harvest was not good and life was particularly embarrassing. At that time, my mother made my clothes, shoes and hats for my little servant and me. Mother is good at textile embroidery. Her embroidery and finished products were brought to the market by young servants, and people always rushed to buy them. Therefore, my little servant and I have always been dressed neatly, neither worn nor rotten.

I remember when my mother taught me, all the embroidery and textile tools were placed beside me. She put the book on her knee and let me sit on a small stool under her knee to read. My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The babbling of reading and the creaking of weaving are intertwined. When I stopped working hard, she hit me a few times with a ruler, hit me, hugged me and cried, saying, "Son, how can I meet your father if you don't study at this time!" In the middle of the night, it was very cold. My mother sat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her feet, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and accompanied me to read. I was tired and fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother shook me and said, "wake up!" " "I opened my eyes and saw my mother with tears on her face. I started crying, too. Have a rest and then ask me to read; Didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow. When I was menstruating, I once said to my mother, "Sister, you only have one son, so why bother!" She replied, "It's easy to have more sons. Only one son. If I don't make progress in the future, who can I rely on? "

When I was nine years old, my mother taught me The Book of Rites, Zhouyi and Shi Mao, and I could recite them all. Whenever she has time, she copies the poems of Tang and Song poets and teaches me to recite ancient poems. Mom and I are both weak and sick. Whenever I am sick, my mother will hold me around the room without sleeping. When I was a little better, she pointed to the poem posted on the wall and taught me to recite it in a low voice as a game. When my mother is ill, I always sit by her pillow. My mother looked at me, often without saying a word, very sad, and I was also very sad to be attached to her. Once I asked her, "Mom, aren't you happy?" She said, "I'm not happy." "Then how can I make my mother happy?" She said, "I'm glad you can recite what you have read." So I endorsed it, and the sound of the book was mixed with the boiling sound of the medicine pot. Mother smiled and said, "Look, I'm cured!" " "Since then, my mother was ill, so I took a book and read it at her bedside to make her better.

3. Classical Chinese translation "Letter from Mother Jiang" Original: All four years old, my mother gave four books a few words.

Poor children can't write, but they carve bamboo branches into silk, break them, bend them into waves, brush them, dot them, draw them into words, and hold them on their knees to teach them. Once you know, you can tear it down.

Practice cross during the day, and all the staff can read with bamboo silk tomorrow, that's right. At the age of six, I started writing books.

Remember that when mom teaches, the group's embroidery performance should be left and right, and the book should be placed on the knee, so that the teacher can sit on the knee and watch. Mother-in-law is responsible for the operation, dictation, sentence reading, squeaking and grinding alternately.

If the son is lazy, he will add less early summer, and then he will cry with his son in his arms and say, "If you don't study here, how can I see your father!" " At midnight, it was very cold. My mother sat on the bed, covered her feet, took off her chest, warmed her back and carried her back. Tired of watching, I slept in my mother's arms. Suddenly my mother shook her fist and said, "You can wake up!" " Looking at my mother's face, I burst into tears, and all of them cried.

Look at it later. Chickens crow and lie down.

When I was four years old, my mother taught me a few sentences from the four books every day. Suffering from being too young to hold a pen, I cut bamboo branches into filaments, broke them, bent them into small pictures, spelled them, put them on my knees and taught me to read.

When you know a word, tear it off. Teach me ten words every day. The next day, my mother asked me to spell the words I knew the day before with bamboo silk until there was nothing wrong.

When I was six years old, my mother told me to learn to write with a pen. I remember when my mother taught me, all the embroidery and textile tools were put aside. She put a book on her knee and asked me to sit on a small stool under her knee to read.

My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The babbling of reading is mixed with the creaking of weaving.

When I was slack, she hit me a few times with a ruler, then hugged me and cried and said, "Son, how can I meet your father if you refuse to study hard at this time!" In the middle of the night, it was very cold. My mother sat on the bed, covered her feet with a quilt, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and endorsed with me. I was tired and fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother shook me and said, "wake up!" " "I opened my eyes and saw my mother in tears, so I began to cry.

Have a rest and ask me to read. Mother didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow.

Extended data:

Jiang Shiquan is a scholar in Qianlong's twenty-two years, edited by imperial academy. Jiang Shiquan, together with Yuan Mei and Zhao Yi, is also known as the three great masters of Qianlong, and is the author of 43 volumes of Ya Ji in the Middle Tang Dynasty.

His father, Jian Jiang, is a scholar of good character, Ren Xia, who is good at studying the names of criminals and has the legacy of ancient martyrs. He has worked in Zezhou, Shanxi Province for a long time and has repeatedly solved mysterious cases, which is of great significance to the contemporary world. He is the author of four volumes of Survival Records, two volumes of Jinchang Prison, one volume of Tiean, one volume of Selected Poems of Sword and one volume of Calligraphy Instruction Collection. His mother, Zhong, also knows books and rituals, and is good at writing, and she is the author of The Collection of Tired Chaiche.

When Shi Quan was born, his family was poor, but his parents' knowledge of books and etiquette enabled him to receive a good family education from an early age.

When I was four years old, my mother taught me a few words about the Four Books and Five Classics every day. Suffering from the fact that I was too young to hold a pen, she cut bamboo branches into filaments, broke them, bent them into a picture, put them into a word, held them on my knee and taught me to read. When you know a word, tear it off. Teach me ten words every day, and the next day let me spell the words I knew the day before with bamboo silk until there are no mistakes. When I was six years old, my mother told me to learn to write with a pen. My grandfather's family was never rich. After several years of famine, the harvest was not good and life was particularly embarrassing. At that time, my mother made my clothes, shoes and hats for my little servant and me. Mother is good at textile embroidery. Her embroidery and finished products were brought to the market by young servants, and people always rushed to buy them. Therefore, my little servant and I have always been dressed neatly, neither worn nor rotten.

I remember when my mother taught me, all the embroidery and textile tools were placed beside me. She put the book on her knee and let me sit on a small stool under her knee to read. My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The babbling of reading and the creaking of weaving are intertwined. When I stopped working hard, she hit me a few times with a ruler, hit me, hugged me and cried, saying, "Son, how can I meet your father if you refuse to study at this time!" In the middle of the night, it was very cold. My mother sat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her feet, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and accompanied me to read. I was tired and fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother shook me and said, "wake up!" " "I opened my eyes and saw my mother with tears on her face. I started crying, too. Have a rest and then ask me to read; Didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow. When I was menstruating, I once said to my mother, "Sister, you only have one son, so why bother!" She replied, "It's easy to have more sons. Only one son. If I don't make progress in the future, who can I rely on? "

When I was nine years old, my mother taught me The Book of Rites, Zhouyi and Shi Mao, and I could recite them all. Whenever she has time, she copies the poems of Tang and Song poets and teaches me to recite ancient poems. Mom and I are both weak and sick. Whenever I am sick, my mother will hold me around the room without sleeping. When I was a little better, she pointed to the poem posted on the wall and taught me to recite it in a low voice as a game. When my mother is ill, I always sit by her pillow. My mother looked at me, often without saying a word, very sad, and I was also very sad to be attached to her. Once I asked her, "Mom, aren't you happy?" She said, "I'm not happy." "Then how can I make my mother happy?" She said, "I'm glad you can recite what you have read." So I endorsed it, and the sound of the book was mixed with the boiling sound of the medicine pot. Mother smiled and said, "Look, I'm cured!" " "Since then, my mother was ill, so I took a book and read it at her bedside to make her better.

5. When Jiangmu's godson was translated and recorded, the embroidery and spinning achievements were collected, about; Put a book on your knee so that the whole servant can sit on his knee and read.

Mother-in-law is responsible for the operation, dictation, sentence reading, squeaking and grinding alternately. If you are lazy, you will add less to the early summer and cry again: "If you don't learn, how can I see your father!" Arrived, the night was very cold, and my mother sat on the bed, covering her feet, warming her clothes with her chest and reciting; Tired of watching, I slept in my mother's arms. Suddenly my mother shook her hand and said, "You can wake up!" " Looking at my mother's face, I burst into tears, and all of them cried.

Less time, repeat reading; Chickens crow and lie down. The aunts said to their mother, "I have a sister, so why bother?" Right: "Children, nothing; A son, greedy and perverting the law, how can I trust my sister! " I remember when my mother taught me, the tools of embroidery and textile were beside me. There is a book on my mother's lap, telling me to sit on a small stool under her knee and read it.

My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The babbling of reading is intertwined with the creaking of weaving.

When I was slack, she hit me a few times with a ruler, hit me, hugged me and cried, saying, "Son, how can I see your father if you refuse to study at this time!" In the middle of the night, it is very cold at night. My mother sat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her feet, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and accompanied me to read. I was so sleepy that I fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother woke me up and said, "You can wake up!" " "When I opened my eyes and saw my mother, my mother's face shed tears and I began to cry.

Have a rest and then ask me to read; Didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow. When I was menstruating, I once said to my mother, "Sister, you only have one son, so why bother!" The mother replied, "I don't care if I have more sons, but this son is not virtuous. Who can I rely on?" " .

6. When Jiangmu's godson was translated and recorded, the embroidery and spinning achievements were collected, left and right; Put a book on your knee so that the whole servant can sit on his knee and read.

Mother-in-law is responsible for the operation, dictation, sentence reading, squeaking and grinding alternately. If you are lazy, you will add less to the early summer and cry again: "If you don't learn, how can I see your father!" Arrived, the night was very cold, and my mother sat on the bed, covering her feet, warming her clothes with her chest and reciting; Tired of watching, I slept in my mother's arms. Suddenly my mother shook her hand and said, "You can wake up!" " Looking at my mother's face, I burst into tears, and all of them cried.

Less time, repeat reading; Chickens crow and lie down. The aunts said to their mother, "I have a sister, so why bother?" Right: "Children, nothing; A son, greedy and perverting the law, how can I trust my sister! " I remember when my mother taught me, the tools of embroidery and textile were beside me. There is a book on my mother's lap, telling me to sit on a small stool under her knee and read it.

My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The babbling of reading is intertwined with the creaking of weaving.

When I was slack, she hit me a few times with a ruler, hit me, hugged me and cried, saying, "Son, how can I see your father if you refuse to study at this time!" In the middle of the night, it is very cold at night. My mother sat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her feet, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and accompanied me to read. I was so sleepy that I fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother woke me up and said, "You can wake up!" " "When I opened my eyes and saw my mother, my mother's face shed tears and I began to cry.

Have a rest and then ask me to read; Didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow. When I was menstruating, I once said to my mother, "Sister, you only have one son, so why bother!" The mother replied, "I don't care if I have more sons, but this son is not virtuous. Who can I rely on?" " .

7. Jiang's mother godson (Jiang) was four years old and presented four books on Mother's Day. Poor children can't write, but they carve bamboo branches into silk, break them, bend them into waves, make words, and sit on their knees to teach them.

Once you know, you can tear it down. Practice cross during the day, and all the staff can read with bamboo silk tomorrow, that's right.

At the age of six, I started writing books. When I think of my mother's teaching, the group embroidered spinning performance is both right and left; Put a book on your knee so that the whole servant can sit on his knee and read.

Mother-in-law is responsible for the operation, dictation, sentence reading, squeaking and grinding alternately. If the child is lazy, add early summer (3) less, and then hold the child and cry: "If you don't learn, how can I see your father!" It was very cold at night. My mother sat on the bed with her feet covered. Her chest was warm and her back was back. She took off her clothes and carried it on her back. Tired of watching, I slept in my mother's arms. Suddenly my mother shook her hand: "You can wake up!" " Looking at my mother's face, I burst into tears, and all of them cried.

Less time, repeat reading; Chickens crow and lie down. The aunts said to their mother, "I have a sister, so why bother?" To Japan: "Children, nothing; A son, greedy and perverting the law, how can I trust my sister! " When he was nine years old, his mother taught him The Book of Rites, The Book of Changes and Shi Mao, all of which were recited. In his spare time, he recorded poems of Tang and Song people and taught them to sing.

Both mother and servant are sickly. When the servant's mother is ill, the mother walks into a room with the servant in her arms and never sleeps. Less recovery, you need to point to the wall and ask poetry, and teach children to whisper. When the mother is ill, the husband will sit by the pillow.

Mother saw the whole, but she was silent and sad, and the whole was attached to it. Taste asks, "Is mom worried?" Day: "Of course."

"But how can I solve my troubles?" Yue: "I can recite what I have read, and I can understand." The chanting is loud and the medicine is boiling.

Mother smiled and said, "I am less ill." Therefore, if the mother is sick, the whole family will endorse it, but the disease can be cured.

Note: ① Four books: The Analects of Confucius, Mencius, University and The Doctrine of the Mean. ② Zigzag (zhé): the strokes of characters.

Wave, skimming; Hey hey. ③ Early summer: ancient school corporal punishment equipment.

Xia means "Jia Mu", which means "Mu Jia Mu". Chu, Vitex negundo.

When I was four years old, my mother taught me a few words about the four books every day. Suffering from the fact that I was too young to hold a pen, she cut bamboo branches into filaments, broke them, bent them into pictures, spelled a word, put me on my knee and taught me to read.

When you know a word, tear it off. Teach me ten words every day, and the next day let me spell the words I knew the day before with bamboo silk until there are no mistakes.

When I was six years old, my mother told me to learn to write with a pen. My grandfather's family was never rich. After several years of famine, the harvest was not good and life was particularly embarrassing.

At that time, my mother made my clothes, shoes and hats for my little servant and me. Mother is good at textile embroidery. Her embroidery and finished products were brought to the market by young servants, and people always rushed to buy them.

Therefore, my little servant and I have always been dressed neatly, neither worn nor rotten. I remember when my mother taught me, all the embroidery and textile tools were placed beside me. She put the book on her knee and let me sit on a small stool under her knee to read.

My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The babbling of reading and the creaking of weaving are intertwined.

When I stopped working hard, she hit me a few times with a ruler, hit me, hugged me and cried, saying, "Son, how can I meet your father if you refuse to study at this time!" In the middle of the night, it was very cold. My mother sat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her feet, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and accompanied me to read. I was tired and fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother shook me and said, "wake up!" " "I opened my eyes and saw my mother with tears on her face. I started crying, too.

Have a rest and then ask me to read; Didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow. When I was menstruating, I once said to my mother, "Sister, you only have one son, so why bother!" She replied, "It's easy to have more sons. Only one son. If I don't make progress in the future, who can I rely on! " When I was nine years old, my mother taught me The Book of Rites, Zhouyi and Shi Mao, and I could recite them all. Whenever she has time, she copies the poems of Tang and Song poets and teaches me to recite ancient poems.

Mom and I are both weak and sick. Whenever I am sick, my mother will hold me around the room without sleeping. When I was a little better, she pointed to the poem posted on the wall and taught me to recite it in a low voice as a game.

When my mother is ill, I always sit by her pillow. My mother looked at me, often without saying a word, very sad, and I was also very sad to be attached to her.

Once I asked her, "Mom, aren't you happy?" She said, "I'm not happy." "Then how can I make my mother happy?" She said, "I'm glad you can recite what you have read."

So I endorsed it, and the sound of the book was mixed with the boiling sound of the medicine pot. Mother smiled and said, "Look, I'm cured!" " "Since then, my mother was ill, so I took a book and read it at her bedside to make her better.

8. Jiangmu's godson (Jiang) is four years old and has four books on Mother's Day. Poor children can't write, but they carve bamboo branches into silk, break them, bend them into waves, make words, and sit on their knees to teach them.

Once you know, you can tear it down. Practice cross during the day, and all the staff can read with bamboo silk tomorrow, that's right.

At the age of six, I started writing books. When I think of my mother's teaching, the group embroidered spinning performance is both right and left; Put a book on your knee so that the whole servant can sit on his knee and read.

Mother-in-law is responsible for the operation, dictation, sentence reading, squeaking and grinding alternately. If the child is lazy, add early summer (3) less, and then hold the child and cry: "If you don't learn, how can I see your father!" It was very cold at night. My mother sat on the bed with her feet covered. Her chest was warm and her back was back. She took off her clothes and carried it on her back. Tired of watching, I slept in my mother's arms. Suddenly my mother shook her hand: "You can wake up!" " Looking at my mother's face, I burst into tears, and all of them cried.

Less time, repeat reading; Chickens crow and lie down. The aunts said to their mother, "I have a sister, so why bother?" To Japan: "Children, nothing; A son, greedy and perverting the law, how can I trust my sister! " When he was nine years old, his mother taught him The Book of Rites, The Book of Changes and Shi Mao, all of which were recited. In his spare time, he recorded poems of Tang and Song people and taught them to sing.

Both mother and servant are sickly. When the servant's mother is ill, the mother walks into a room with the servant in her arms and never sleeps. Less recovery, you need to point to the wall and ask poetry, and teach children to whisper. When the mother is ill, the husband will sit by the pillow.

Mother saw the whole, but she was silent and sad, and the whole was attached to it. Taste asks, "Is mom worried?" Day: "Of course."

"But how can I solve my troubles?" Yue: "I can recite what I have read, and I can understand." The chanting is loud and the medicine is boiling.

Mother smiled and said, "I am less ill." Therefore, if the mother is sick, the whole family will endorse it, but the disease can be cured.

Note: ① Four books: The Analects of Confucius, Mencius, University and The Doctrine of the Mean. ② Zigzag (zhé): the strokes of characters.

Wave, skimming; Hey hey. ③ Early summer: ancient school corporal punishment equipment.

Xia means "Jia Mu", which means "Mu Jia Mu". Chu, Vitex negundo.

When I was four years old, my mother taught me a few words about the four books every day. Suffering from the fact that I was too young to hold a pen, she cut bamboo branches into filaments, broke them, bent them into pictures, spelled a word, put me on my knee and taught me to read.

When you know a word, tear it off. Teach me ten words every day, and the next day let me spell the words I knew the day before with bamboo silk until there are no mistakes.

When I was six years old, my mother told me to learn to write with a pen. My grandfather's family was never rich. After several years of famine, the harvest was not good and life was particularly embarrassing.

At that time, my mother made my clothes, shoes and hats for my little servant and me. Mother is good at textile embroidery. Her embroidery and finished products were brought to the market by young servants, and people always rushed to buy them.

Therefore, my little servant and I have always been dressed neatly, neither worn nor rotten. I remember when my mother taught me, all the embroidery and textile tools were placed beside me. She put the book on her knee and let me sit on a small stool under her knee to read.

My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The babbling of reading and the creaking of weaving are intertwined.

When I stopped working hard, she hit me a few times with a ruler, hit me, hugged me and cried, saying, "Son, how can I meet your father if you refuse to study at this time!" In the middle of the night, it was very cold. My mother sat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her feet, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and accompanied me to read. I was tired and fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother shook me and said, "wake up!" " "I opened my eyes and saw my mother with tears on her face. I started crying, too.

Have a rest and then ask me to read; Didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow. When I was menstruating, I once said to my mother, "Sister, you only have one son, so why bother!" She replied, "It's easy to have more sons. Only one son. If I don't make progress in the future, who can I rely on! " When I was nine years old, my mother taught me The Book of Rites, Zhouyi and Shi Mao, and I could recite them all. Whenever she has time, she copies the poems of Tang and Song poets and teaches me to recite ancient poems.

Mom and I are both weak and sick. Whenever I am sick, my mother will hold me around the room without sleeping. When I was a little better, she pointed to the poem posted on the wall and taught me to recite it in a low voice as a game.

When my mother is ill, I always sit by her pillow. My mother looked at me, often without saying a word, very sad, and I was also very sad to be attached to her.

Once I asked her, "Mom, aren't you happy?" She said, "I'm not happy." "Then how can I make my mother happy?" She said, "I'm glad you can recite what you have read."

So I endorsed it, and the sound of the book was mixed with the boiling sound of the medicine pot. Mother smiled and said, "Look, I'm cured!" " "Since then, my mother was ill, so I took a book and read it at her bedside to make her better.

9. It is best to translate the difficult words in Jiang's mother's adopted son's translation. When I was nine years old, my mother taught me to learn The Book of Rites, Zhouyi and Shi Mao, and I was able to recite them.

Whenever she has time, she copies the poems of Tang and Song poets and teaches me to recite ancient poems. Mom and I are both weak and sick.

Whenever I am sick, my mother will hold me around the room without sleeping. When I was a little better, she pointed to the poem posted on the wall and taught me to recite it in a low voice as a game. When my mother is ill, I always sit by her pillow.

My mother looked at me, often without saying a word, very sad, and I was also very sad to be attached to her. Once I asked her, "Mom, aren't you happy?" She said, "I'm not happy."

"Then how can I make my mother happy?" She said, "I'm glad you can recite what you have read." So I endorsed it, and the sound of the book was mixed with the boiling sound of the medicine pot.

Mother smiled and said, "Look, I'm cured!" " "Since then, my mother was ill, so I took a book and read it at her bedside to make her better. When he was nine years old, his mother gave him The Book of Rites, The Book of Changes and Shi Mao, all of which were recited.

In his spare time, he recorded Tang and Song poems and taught them to sing. Both mother and servant are sickly. Every time a servant is ill, his mother holds him in a room and never sleeps. Less recovery, you need to refer to the poems between the walls and teach your children to whisper.

When the mother is ill, the husband will sit by the pillow. Mother saw the whole, but she was silent and sad, and the whole was attached to it.

Tasting Day: "Is Mom worried?" Said, "Of course." "But how can I solve my troubles?" Yue: "I can recite what I have read, and I can understand."

The chanting is loud, and there is a heated debate about medicine. Mother smiled and said, "The disease is not that bad." Therefore, if the mother is sick, the whole family will endorse it, but the disease can be cured.