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窗前的那株悬铃木是被我凝望着一点点绿起来的。春天刚来的时候,树枝上只绽了一点点米粒样的芽苞,宛若一个个顿号,后来萌了些芽,就成了逗号,现在树叶已有幼童的手掌大小了,天气也渐渐地暖和起来,严冬终于被圆圆的树叶划上了句号。我持久凝望那棵树,便越觉得它有些意思。冬天的时候,尽管光秃秃的没有一片叶儿,时常有麻雀在树枝上跳来跳去,即使没有嬉闹的麻雀,那棵悬铃木也用树枝作笔,在地上一遍一遍地临摹太阳的影子。总之,它从来没有虚度时日,既不在寒风中忧郁,也不在春光中陶醉,它只是把自己的心事绽成一枚苞,一粒芽,一片叶,一团绿。
The sycamore tree in front of the window was staring a little green. When spring arrived, only a few grains of buds sprouted on the branches. Just like one after another, buds sprouted, and they became commas. Now that the leaves of young children have grown in size, the weather gradually When the ground warms up, Yan Dong finally ends with a full circle of leaves. The more I gazed at the tree, the more I thought it was somewhat interesting. In winter, despite the fact that there are no leafless leaves, sparrows often jump up and down the branches. Even if there are no sparrows, the sycamore tree branches use pens and repeat the shadows of the sun over and over again on the ground. In short, it has never lost its time, neither is it melancholy in the cold, nor intoxicated in the spring; it merely plucks its mind into a beggar, a bud, a leaf, and a cloud of green.