经常会有这样的春天,你待在教室里无所事事,看着窗子外面的蓝天发呆。鸟儿一闪而过,去了你永远不知道的地方。经常会有这样的春天,暮色低垂,你正准备裹紧衣服,踽踽独行。晚风一抚而过,像一双穿过你黑发的温柔的手。经常会有这样的春天,你走在回家的路上,正疑惑近处草色的渐变,抬眼一望,邂逅溪流尽头桥边的一笔浅粉。春天是什么呢?也许是植物在疯长,花朵在热恋;也许是披着月影和星辉开启的另一端征程?也许是生命中最好的光阴,最动人的姿态。所以,我们在遇见春天的时候,最好不要撞到:霾。这东西在冬天,好像勉强还能忍一忍;开春还一片混沌,就实在 There are often such springs that you stay in the classroom to do nothing and watch the blue sky outside the window in a daze. The birds flashed and went to places you never knew. There are often springs like this, the hussk is low and you are preparing to wrap your clothes and walk alone. The evening breeze touched like a pair of gentle hands through your black hair. There are often such springs. You walk on the way home. You are wondering about the gradient of the grass nearby. You look up and look at the light pink of the bridge at the end of the stream. What is spring? Maybe the plants are mad, and the flowers are in love; perhaps it is the journey to the moon and Starlight that opens up on the other side? Perhaps the best time in life, the most touching gesture. Therefore, when we meet the spring, it is best not to bump into: Hey. This thing is in the winter, it seems that you can still endure a forbearance; the spring is still chaotic, it is true