Cross the "horizontal" crossbar, which is the railing of the ship.
2. Introduction to the original text
The Story of the Nuclear Ship is an explanatory classical Chinese written by Wei Xueyi. It's from "New Records of Jade Beginning" edited by Zhang Chao in Qing Dynasty. This paper narrates the image of "nuclear ship" with spatial order from the middle to the two ends, from the whole to the part, and from the front to the back, which shows the author's praise for Wang Shuyuan's exquisite art and folk art and reflects the great achievements of China's ancient sculpture art. In vivid and concise language, the author described the vivid characters and scenery characteristics on the "nuclear ship". Praised the superb skills of the boatmen, and also highly praised the industriousness and wisdom of the ancient Han working people in China.
3. Introduction to the author
Wei Xueyi (about 1596—— about 1625) was an essayist in the late Ming Dynasty. Zi Zijing, the eldest son of Wei Dazhong, a famous official, was born in Jiashan (now Jiaxing, Zhejiang) in the 40th year of Wanli (157 1). Wei Xueyi was able to write poetry at the age of seven. He was very filial. Once I accidentally fell off the bridge and broke my foot, but I didn't dare to shout pain for fear that my parents would be afraid. When I was young, I went to Xiao Wei Temple with my father Wei Dazhong to study hard and lived a poor life, imitating Fan Zhongyan's chanting day and night. As an adult, he is famous in the village because he is good at writing articles, and his poems are even more exquisite and deeply appreciated by everyone. Wei Xueyi lived in the era when eunuchs were rampant in the late Ming Dynasty. During the Apocalypse, Wei Dazhong, his father, was framed and imprisoned for accusing Quan Gan of raping Wei Zhongxian. Wei Xueyi secretly went to Beijing with the sill car, trying to write a letter for his father's sins, but failed to do so. When his father died in prison, Wei Xueyi climbed back into the coffin and cried day and night. Less than a month after his father died, he cried to death. Only lived about thirty years old. In the early years of Chongzhen, he was honored as a dutiful son. I have never been an official in my life, and I have written eight volumes of Mao Yan Ji, which are included in Sikuquanshu, including Nuclear Boat. In the first year of Chongzhen in the Ming Dynasty (1628), Wei Xuelian, the second son of Wei Dazhong, pricked blood in Painful Chen Family, telling the story of his father's death and white bear's filial piety. Four cases confessed their grievances, posthumously awarded Dazhong Tai Changqing, gave him "loyalty festival", offered him sacrifices for burial, learned to accompany sacrifices, and privately "filial piety".
2. What are the poems praising laborers? May Day is coming. Praising laborers' poetry recitation can express your respect for laborers and your love for labor.
What are the poems praising laborers? I collected 10 modern poems praising the working people for your reference, hoping to help you. "Ode to the Day in May" Spring breeze and spring rain swept vilen, thus spreading a long layer of green.
The high iron tower and the layers of distribution network are busy scenes for line maintenance workers. The wind, with warm hands playing cheerful music on the wires, sings accompaniment songs for the lonely workers in the vast sand sea, and the deserted Gobi is full of vitality because of their existence.
In order to make the town near the desert have a bright night, and for thousands of workers in Qian Qian to use electric energy safely and continuously to build the motherland, we electric workers will return to the moonlight war and sandstorm, patrol lines, overhaul, eliminate defects from barren fields to noisy streets, carefully check every corner from overhead lines to underground cables, and prevent every hidden danger from slipping away from their eyes ... This is the truest hymn offered by the Messenger of Light for their workers' festival! Love labor Our simple wish is endless labor, which is to make labor a virtue and craft and pass it on from generation to generation. This tradition and habit of going deep into the bone marrow is as irresistible as my father's face. Day after day, year after year, we carefully hold the fields in our hands. Working in the countryside and working in Sige is the only way for us to mature. Now happiness begins with simple labor. Surrounded by fields and villages from all angles, we love labor, our tired bodies are pure and our souls are peaceful. Under the protection of labor, my body is grateful in the beating of the sun. There is a metallic voice and a seductive voice hovering over the land, which makes us feel the taste of the land more deeply. Labor makes us gush like sweat. Endless silence, like feathers beating on metal, we were born to work. We took off the scales and infiltrated into the soil with the rain. In a mature season of golden dance, we are full of fragrance, hanging high and loving labor. Song of Labor stands on the head of Red May and goes deep into the hearts of workers. The jumping notes in the sun accidentally fell and touched the silent fruit trees. The silent earth suddenly sounded the sound of labor. The song of support echoed in the hearts of hundreds of millions of employees, echoed in the blue sky and white clouds, and the trees were full of birds and flowers. I can't help getting up in the morning. Sunshine, rain and spring breeze push the flowers of civilization in the city to grow the fruits of labor in the countryside. The beautiful scenery with eyes is full of joy, singing the songs of labor under the fluttering notes, bringing the good news of spring sowing to Xia Yun and making the earth full of poetry. The mountain ridges are constantly arched underground, and the fruits are numerous, and the delicious and sweet "Song of Labor Day" bends down and plows down the farmers' waist. In May, they bend down and sweat drops, accompanied by the solar wind, bright green ears of grain, the laughter wrapped in festive red silk, the quiet smoke from the kitchen rises in Ran Ran, and Ran Ran rises as the pupil of the city to find a highly majestic and ancient square. The relentless growth of labor hymns, climbed to the top of the tower, climbed into flying objects, climbed into the solar system in the splendor of Xinghan, and fell into fantasy. I thought of the Garden of Eden, * * * and a leaf. Think of stone hunting, think of human beings knocking out the first shining spark with flint, think of papermaking, compass gunpowder, movable type printing, think of Newton being hit in the head by a falling apple, labor is glorious, labor creates happiness, and labor is a kind of wisdom and happiness endowed by God to human beings. We stretch our muscles, let the spring breeze touch the fresh blood vessels on our bodies and write poems. A poetic life "Singing Labor" Singing Labor In this season when flowers wake up and willow branches dance, I sing about an earthworm crawling under soft soil. This peristalsis is the most beautiful dance. It is very consistent with the kneeling posture of farmers planting and sowing, and it is filled with the golden rice fragrance of some soybeans. Become the most beautiful dance god in the land full of water. 2. Singing that labor is thousands of miles away in a distant home and country. I sing about my old country mother. She doesn't know that one day in May is Mother's Day. All she knows is that the kitchen smoke gets up early and then hoes the ground, and goes to the ridge to let the dripping sweat beat the harvest. Looking at Mai Miao is like her lush daughter. Growing up in green, singing and working in the depths of the 800-meter dark and hardened center of the earth, singing a dark and bright miner's lamp. Its flame is a salty mine disaster, spraying sweat, making those bony bones harder, and countless black hands holding another dawn. At this time, the rising warm sun is lighter than the air. Heavier than a stone, singing and working in every quiet or noisy street in the city, I sang a leisurely dancing broom, which was silent. A body close to the earth put on some rouge, dressed up the city's broom about ordinary and great, about humble and noble dancing, and commented on the beautiful dance. Singing works in the white delivery room of a nearby hospital. I sing the happy cries of every newborn baby, loud and melodious. If happy notes dance on the tired sweat of female nurses, I really want to dedicate the most beautiful poems to them, so that I can face them-these holy angels, my weak poems, how humble the "May 1 Golden Week has arrived", the wind is warm and the rain is soft, and the sun is shining. We are in a wonderful mood. Who will I arrange for when the May Day Golden Week comes? I will calculate the RMB for the scenic spots in an all-round way. Every happy smile is a magic ticket. I stranded my heart in entertainment. Cars? I am still in the mood to travel all over the country and fly all over the world. I am tired of spending these seven days, but I regret leaving a trace of helplessness in my life. Indeed, I became the master of money, and money enslaved me. The scenery that people miss all the way during the May Day Golden Week is very warm, and the service will be eroded by the sunny May. The song of Labor Day, how happy the workers are at work, how bright the sun is, and the green leaves of trees are dancing rapidly.