中秋的清晨,天是粉白的,太阳被高楼遮住面孔,天空一弯月牙,水粉的半圆向中心褪散去。路上的行人稀稀落落,熬过夜的车辆载着烟草的味道,把我一路顺风送向月坛。公园的大门六点就开了,客人们已散落到哪个空地或哪棵大树下。走在中轴线上,两排柏树夹住大道。轻步松肩,宛转手臂,如流水般淌过青砖路,抚过丁香丛,穿过厚厚的门墙,爬上高大的银杏树,片片小扇子在半空中摇着小手,向清新的空气问好。 Mid-autumn morning, the sky is pink, the sun is covered by high-rise faces, the sky a crescent, gypsum semicircles fade to the center. Pedestrians on the road sparsely populated, the night-long vehicle carrying the taste of tobacco, all the way to the moon altar. The park’s gate opened at six o’clock, the guests have scattered to which open space or under which tree. Walk in the axis, two rows of Cypress caught the avenue. Slightly loose shoulder, Wan arm, such as flowing through the brick road, stroking the clove clumps, through the thick door wall, climb tall ginkgo tree, piece small fan shaking hands in mid-air to fresh Say hello to the air.