J深山播绿人在渗透汗水的脚窝里,一棵一棵地绿了春天。而你,却总是不知不觉地忽视了自己头上的秋霜。树,如一支支标致遒劲的画笔,用你布满累累老茧的手掌,画出山河的活力。于是,诗情画意,便牢牢地站稳了它们原始的根。山,似你永不弯曲的脊梁,在你双眸疯长的绿意中,裸露的只是树上的一片悠悠的云, J deep green sow in the infiltration of sweat in the nest, a green tree in spring. And you, but always unwittingly ignored their own autumn frost. Tree, such as a branch of Peugeot Jin forceful brush, with your palm full of calluses, draw the vitality of mountains and rivers. Thus, poetic, they firmly rooted their original roots. Mountain, like you never bend the backbone of green eyes in your eyes soaring, bare only a tree on a long cloud,