淡淡的月光下,悠悠的树影旁,响起了轻柔舒缓的小提琴声。它如泣如诉,如梦如烟。琴弓亲吻着琴弦,诉说着一个流传千古的故事:梁山伯与祝英台。开始,寂静无声的短暂空白,像洁白的稿纸开头的几行空格,像沉重的大幕拉开之际的一息,像明月之夜推开临湖画窗的一瞬,静静的,静静的。仿佛 In the faint moonlight, a gentle and soothing violin sounds beside the shadowy trees. It is like crying, like a dream. The bows kissed the strings, telling a story that was passed down through the ages: Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. At the beginning, silent blank spaces, like the lines of white papers at the beginning, are like the occasion of a heavy curtain opening, like the night of the moon open the lake window, silent, quiet. . as if