Wipe your tears and write, brush your tears and write inscriptions, comfort your pain with stones, and remember my kindness!
In the autumn of May 4th, September 24th, my mother was the sixth ancestor of Zhuanglang.
Born at the wrong time, wild vegetables are scarce, and five years old is helpless.
In adulthood, poverty and famine, hungry people leave their homes, and weak women leave their homes.
I moved to Bin County and met my father. Since then, I have been hot and cold.
My humble abode is not rich, my country is not prosperous, I honor my in-laws and live frugally.
Work hungry, mend, and love your sister as your own.
1979 years later, at the beginning, he cultivated land, started a business in the barren land, and became famous in the districts and counties.
Good latitude and longitude, hard work, March 8 Red Flag, awarded pacesetter many times.
It never rains but it pours. The loving mother is ill, strong and disease-resistant, and has been ill in bed for three years.
On my deathbed, I still think about the distance, because my son is unfilial and my mother is concerned.
There is no way to return to heaven, farewell to five, sound, separation of man and nature.
Complain about the sky, don't wait for hoary heads, complain about the land, and cry in autumn!
Fifty years' legacy, a hundred years' legacy, diligence and self-cultivation, filial piety to parents.
Give a thousand favors, and things will change. Remember, Yusi does not forget!
Thank you for writing, son.
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