The structure of one is: one (monadic structure) one (monadic structure). The lexical property is: a quantity word. The phonetic transcription is: 一_ㄍㄜ_. The pinyin is: yígè.
What is the specific explanation of one, we will introduce you through the following aspects:
I. Word ExplanationClick here to see the plan in detail
Single; one person.
Two, cited the explanation
⒈ table number. Single. Used for people and various things. For example: a person; a bookcase; a school; an ideal; a week; a place. ⒈ whole. E.g. He hasn't rested all morning today. E.g. It hasn't snowed all winter this year. e.g. Eat a full meal; see enough; get wet. Singed is combined with nouns and verbs and used before predicate verbs to indicate rapidity or suddenness. Cited in Zhang Tianyi's "Sons and Daughters": "The black clouds pile up heavier and heavier, desperately sinking down, and if we don't pay attention, they will collapse." Shatin, "Ding Lame Gong": "Yesterday, at a banquet for buying and selling fields, I was careless and gave two or three acquaintances a drunken lie-down." Zu慰《The Current Cut by the Reef》："I turned my head and left, fearing that she would catch up with me in a single bound."
Three, the national dictionary
I. E.g. "What's there to see in a fighting one?" , "A medicine that is also a hoot?"
Four, the network explanation
one (Chinese words) one is a Chinese word, table number, single; used for people and various things, and the meaning of the whole; used between the verb and the complement to indicate the degree; with the combination of the noun and the verb, and used in the predicate before the verb to indicate rapid or sudden.
Poetry about one
"An Afternoon with an Ant*** by the Kaidu River" "Xiao Chongshan - A Sack and a Ladle" "Playing Dansha - Eleven My Peers and a Come"
Verses about one
Karma is between the many loads I'm committing my whole life to you there's nothing to be weighed that can be reckoned with in time yes there is nothing to be arranged by us. It is up to us to arrange ah in front of thousands of lotus leaves when you look back a lot of things will be decided from then on in that afternoon full of flowers an afternoon of painting lotus in that July afternoon in front of the new rain lotus if you did not turn back I could have taken any kind of subject could have painted a completely different sketch or watercolor my life could have been different if in front of the new rain of lotus if you just quietly walked by You just walked by quietly on that July afternoonIf you hadn't turned backThe flower season of sixteen woke up in a strange city with your name still on my lipsLove, I'm a million miles away from youI also know that the flower season of sixteen blooms only onceBut I still care about the whiteness of the trainI care about all the praised, pampered, and soothed feelingsI care about the golden dreamy net that protects me from the winds and frosts of the foreign worldLove is a kind of wine that turns into thoughts when I've had a drink. In a strange city I raise my glass night after night to the year I was sixteen and wonder am I really in love with you? Am I not in love with the youth that never returns, the flower that withered before it bloomed and the summer that was so hasty, the painting that was discarded before it was colored, and the parting that was so unthoughtful? Am I really in love with you? Otherwise, how could I have fallen in love with such a bad youth? I spent my life pondering a question when I was young, like a shy bud, I couldn't open my mouth, waiting for the flowers to fill the branches, but then I parted, and tonight we meet, but we are in the way of you and my gray hairs Ridiculous ah, unfortunate, I finally have to spend my life pondering a question starry-eyed faraway traveler, the prodigal son of the space, once I turn back to the world to be seventy-six years later, half of a wall of the blue dome, what kind of landscape is the scenery of the light years, whether it's a long pavilion, or even a short pavilion, the silver hair flying, and white cape fluttered and trailed with a lonely loneliness of loneliness of loneliness of loneliness Consort rushed the purple micro crossing the tantalizing heavenly river in the ancient book of erratic movements disrupted the orderly order of the stars and hosts alarmed the emperor and children brought nightmares wars revolutions plagues and deaths Chintian Supervision do not know how to explain the rhymes of the marketplace the slang of the rivers and lakes can not be waiting for Harley your oblivious confidant to the depths of the starry night spectra of the floods in the parabola of the fine to track your wandering life as a mystery from now on, so that you have a common name to come back to find you in the world of man. the confidant of the world, waving such an illustrious signal to testify in his favor, but sixteen prophets are always hunchbacks who can't wait to meet their own prophecies, like a boomerang, you flew diagonally against all the planets, all the telescopes are aiming at the whole theater, waiting excitedly for the protagonist to take the stage from the darkest part of the night, the most sensational guest of the year, to look at the mirror and see the side of the mirror you're touched with the dashing hair combed again and again to meet the fireballs that are coming to meet the hurricane of Sun Plaza. Hurricane Sun Plaza's openness around an empty U-shape you are making a big turn ready for the return trip 1984 contemporary prophecies have just passed and then see you from far away from the ancient legend dragged the shadow of the broom really pitiful fear of mankind without a complaint and helpless how much more can withstand the threat of the earth's man-made disasters can not be blamed on the natural disaster you are really a broom, so broom sweeping the ominous omen of the hearts of our lone warrior is you 76 years into a robbery! How many times have you survived? What heavenly wrath is expelling you from the underworld and letting you go to the desolate border of Pluto to look back at the sun. A sickly firefly is not willing to be a death sentence in the black prison, you always break out to join the sun's brilliant parade to worship the firelight. You are always running in the tragedy of reincarnation and hoisting the long pilgrimage flag along the way. Let me raise the mirror to pay tribute to you. Billions of lenses have raised the six-inch lens to you tonight. One side is the long and boundless sky and the other side is the hurrying and sentient earth. How many people on this side can wait for you to come back in your next reincarnation? At least I can't. Even though my gray hair is 3,000 feet long, how can it be longer than yours? Next time you pass by, there won't be any more of me on earth, but my country will still be the Five Mountains upward and all the rivers will still roll eastward. The will of the nation will always be moving forward to the hot sun. Just like you, the tears of the moonlight, I can't forget that it is the tears in your eyes that reflect the moonlight between the clouds. Last night, it was raining. The rains invaded the deserted graves on the distant mountains. The rain invaded the barren mound in the distant mountains and the small forest of Acacia trees covered your grave with a green shade This morning the sky cleared up and the ground Luo climbed up the barren mound in the distant mountains and the gentle wild wind in the valley Buddha wiped the white head of grass on your grave At dusk, who would go to the graveside to identify the tattered headstones I had forgotten the direction of the burial but only remembered that I was facing the slanting sun when I cried...I chose the one where the most grass was found, and put down a bunch of hyacinth. The underground sleep is not necessarily you so why follow the world of people crying is hundreds of years ah this long dream has not yet woken up hope that the reality into the old fairy tale you just sleep a hundred years I also accompany you let the wild rose in our body blossom let the red-breasted bird in our hair nesting let the fallen leaves in the folds of the rest in the twinkling of an instant after a century but this is only a dream just the shadows of the distant mountains engulfed you also engulfed the heart of the melancholy of my go back Through the pine forest there is a blurred shadow of a deer in the forest what flowers are blooming on the path why is it always a tearful moonlight night after night far away tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow again across the mountains the mountains are gentle and solemn there is a dense thunder from the deep valley the heavy mountains cover my eyes goodbye to my love let me cross this unfamiliar valley alone across this deep and depressing space my past is crying and confessing to myself don't write these strange poems anymore you don't want to be a poet in your whole life, but my love is so beautiful how can I not have it in my heart? How can my heart not be filled with poetry when it is so beautiful? My verses are like pearls on a broken chain. Although they are broken, each pearl is still as soft as the first. I can't stop the thoughts at the tip of my pen like I can't stop the spring rains. Although the rain may fill the streets with mud, it also cleanses the heart of jasmine's tiny flowers. 1 Let me believe, my dear, that this is my story, just as if I were to believe that blossoming and falling flowers are the history of the whole of spring. 2 If you can forget... If you can forget, then I should be able to freeze all the teardrops in my heart or decorate them on the boundless sky of the summer night.3 And when the wind picks up, I only tighten the train of my coat to protect my still-singing heart from the eavesdropping of autumn.4 Just because I can't grow in the place where the snow falls, I can't tell that hope for the rest of my life. I'm a transplanted coniferous tree. Darling, you're a winter's homeland in the far north. Why can I lock up my heart? Why can't I lock up love and sorrow in my long life? Why do joys always fade as soon as they appear? The ones that go the fastest are the most beautiful ones. The Bride of Loulan My beloved once buried me with tears, wrapped my smooth body in jewels and frankincense, and then with trembling hands put bird feathers in my satin hair. The sun sets in the west, Loulan is empty of its own prosperity, my lover left me alone, leaving me with the darkness of eternity and the sweetness and sadness of eternity, and I can never forgive you for waking me up so recklessly, exposing me to the desolation of no longer knowing each other, shattering me, shattering the heart I once had so tenderly, only that the sun is still the same as the sun of the day, but can anyone who can rebury me return me to my thousand-year-old dream, I shall still be the Bride of Loulan!
Word about a
whirlnextoneanotherAindividualwhicheleven
Idiomatic expression about a
one of the flavors and one of the weaker ones
Word about the
2. The state security service dug up a y buried secret agent.
3. If a man tries to be all things to all people, he can do nothing well.
4. I used to run off alone into the woods to make speeches in order to practice my eloquence.
5. This one meeting had just ended, and he was rushing nonstop toward another.
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