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雨上又清明,炎黄子孙的情愫再次撕裂开来,又抹合在一起。山水一程,心伤又一程,冷风相随,迷云牵绕,座座坟墓上缠绕的枯藤,数说着古往今来的梦。追思亲人是一种情结,悲伤的记忆蔓延在一个又一个上坟人的心头,卷过的凉风拂去了上坟人零乱又一统的脚印。鸟依旧在在坟边的树上歌唱,枯萎的藤蔓稀疏了地上与地下的距离。泥土散发出来的气息,一点点腐蚀上坟人的心,让他们再也没有抵抗能力,就兀自哭了起来。瞳仁扯起阴阳相隔的哀殇,让那颗在灵魂缺口滚动的泪,热了今世的相逢,凉了一生难随的相伴。藤蔓把炽热坠漏在冰冷的泥土上,发丝在风的梦醒时分散乱,彷徨了存在的人们。
The rain was clear and bright, and the sentiments of the Yellow Emperor were again torn apart and they were put together again. After a journey in the mountains and rivers, the heart hurts again and again, and the cold wind goes along with it. The clouds encircling it, and the vines that are wrapped around the tomb are talking about the ancient dreams. Remembering their loved ones is a kind of complex. The memory of sadness spreads one after another on the heart of the graves. The cold breeze that has been rolled away has taken away the footprints of the graves. The birds still sang on the trees beside the grave, and withered vines sparse the distance between the ground and the ground. The earth breathed out. It eroded the hearts of the graves and made them no longer resistant. They cried. The pupil pulls up the mourning between the yin and yang, and lets the tears rolling in the soul gap roll, heat the meeting of the present world, and linger with the cold for a lifetime. The vines crashed into the icy mud with hot flashes of hair. The hair was dispersed when the wind's dream awakened.