Who can give me a composition to rewrite "Qing Ping Le Village Residence" into an article (200 words). This poem is available online.

Tall mountains stand on this land, and the cheerful singing of cuckoos comes from the forest. At the foot of the mountains, a crystal clear stream flows slowly, in the sunshine. There was a golden light underneath, as if the green mountain was wrapped with a golden belt, which was particularly conspicuous.

Suddenly, a burst of "Hey" broke the tranquility. Following the sound, I saw a small thatched house next to the creek. The wooden window in the house was opened with a bamboo pole, revealing two affable faces full of wrinkles. They were an old couple over fifty years old. The old man's face was already a little flushed, obviously he was pregnant. Drunk.

Just listen to the gray-haired grandma say: "Old man, don't drink too much, it will hurt your health!"

The grandpa laughed and said with a smile: "Not much, no "How can you not drink a few more drinks on such a good day?" After that, he raised his neck and poured the wine glass into his mouth. When he put it down, the bottom of the glass was already visible, and the old man's face became even redder. .

Suddenly, a pair of white and tender little hands stretched out from the window, holding a handful of lotus seeds, and said with a smile: "Father, mother, you eat!"

The old mother laughed and used it. Taking the lotus seeds in his hand, he said: "Baby is so good!"

It turned out to be their youngest son, with two braids on his head, wearing a white vest and a jacket stained by mud. Red pants.

The grandfather gently stroked his head with his hand and asked: "What are your two brothers doing?"

The younger son said: "The second brother is weaving. The birdcage is going to be sold tomorrow. The elder brother is hoeing in the east and sweating a lot!"

The old couple looked out the window and saw their second son sitting cross-legged on the ground, wearing a pair of clothes. A blue sweatshirt and gray shorts, holding a half-knitted birdcage in one hand and a wide flat bamboo strip in the other hand, weaving wholeheartedly, even though the two big roosters next to him were croaking "cluck, cluck". It didn't stop, and he didn't care at all. In a field not far away, the eldest son was working there. Under the scorching red sun, he took off his shirt, rolled up his trouser legs to his knees, put on a straw hat, held a hoe, and bent down to work. Hoeing away weeds in the field, big beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. At this time, he was a little tired. He stood up straight, shook off the sweat, took a few deep breaths, and bent down again. Kneel down and continue hoeing.

The old couple looked at each other and smiled knowingly...