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我名叫燕,我喜欢燕。燕是我童年的花、少年的星;燕是我春的使者,心灵的剪刀,巧剪出我梦的憧憬、春的潇洒,我唱着燕的歌飞出童年……我长大,城市也长大。一块一方水泥肌体,挤得红消绿瘦了,挤得燕子不知归何处。哦,我的小城,燕哪里去了?春哪里去了,只剩下四季如一的灰旧颜色。“小燕子穿花衣……”我哼着童年的歌,找我童年的燕,找我小城失落的春。但我看到的又是一群孩子拆下几枝冬青,一辆汽车撞倒一棵棵柳树,碧叶落下,给我心头落下一层更深的惆怅……小城的燕子哟,你在哪里?我带着燕的惆怅。
My name is Yan, I like Yan. Yan is my childhood flower, young star; Yan is my messenger of spring, the heart of the scissors, cleverly cut out my dream longing, spring chic, I sing Yan’s song flying out of childhood ... I grew up, the city Also grow up. A piece of cement body, crowded red disappeared green thin, squeezed swallow I do not know where to go. Oh, my little town, where did Yan go? Spring gone, leaving only four seasons of the old gray color. “Swallow wearing a flower dress ... ...” I humming a childhood song, looking for my childhood Yan, looking for my lost city of spring. But what I saw was a group of children who had removed a few hollies, a car knocking down a willow tree, and the green leaves falling, giving me a deeper feeling of melancholy ... The swallows in the town yo where are you? With Yan’s melancholy.