Viết 1 đoạn văn “Kỳ nghỉ ở miền quê” bằng tiếng anh KHÔNG CHÉP MẠNG NHA viết vào vở chữ đẹp xíu nha mấy bẹn

Viết 1 đoạn văn “Kỳ nghỉ ở miền quê” bằng tiếng anh
KHÔNG CHÉP MẠNG NHA viết vào vở chữ đẹp xíu nha mấy bẹn

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  1. My sisters and I were informed that we would return to their hometown. We were all excited, happy and eager to prepare many things. Early in the morning, the car began to change wheels, leaving trees and roofs on the familiar street. Soon, the immense field appeared green. The village road is straight and long. On the two sides of the road are rice fields in full ripeness. Each wind blew, the paddy fields tilted with the wind like endless waves.

    In the afternoon, this tranquil countryside is as beautiful as a colourful picture and as bustling as a concert. Behind the village bamboo ramparts, the red sun shines the rays of sunlight at the end of the day down the canopy of the trees. The field replaced the bright yellow shirt with a yellow one. Houses with red and green tiled roofs look between the gardens. Chickens of chickens, pigs engorged, ducks cracking and demanding to eat. The sound of a buffalo and a cow calling after a long day of eating. The voices of the peasants were talking. I met An that afternoon. Her friend’s house is near her grandmother’s house. The next morning, I saw An holding a very beautiful kite. At that time, I felt like it so much so I ran to ask to borrow it but borrowed it while grabbing it. An asked aloud with a surprised face and regained: “Is this my kite?”.I burst into tears. My grandmother ran to ask questions, I was more and more excited to cry. A reported the story and gave me a kite. I grabbed and ran into the yard. But I can’t play. Thinking for a long time, I looked back at An’s house. An saw me and called me in. I humbly apologized and told An to show me how to play. She smiles and pulls me out onto a wide lawn. There, the wind blew very loudly. A moderately released the string, the kite flew in the wind, higher and higher. An gave me the kite string. So that morning, An and I had a good time together. When we got back, we passed through the fields. Farmers are still working hard to accumulate the fields. Holding sickles in hand, holding bundles of rice, reaping and bundling continuously. On the faces of the doctors, sweat mocked. He gently wiped it with a ready-on towel and then continued to reap a grin. Whoa! The moment I saw that face I understood the hard work of the people who made the grain and the rice grain.

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