春夜春梦时窗前的淅淅沥沥、滴滴答答,惊醒了少年的林。他辗转反侧,难以入眠。他盘膝而坐靠在墙上,他的目光再一次落到那个枕头,往事再一次涌上脑海。他抓起那个用木棉做的枕头,抱着痛哭起来。“日借嫩黄初着柳,雨催新绿稍归田。”世间万物在春风的爱抚下复苏了,只可惜她一走再 When the spring night dreams, the window is pattered and dripping, and he wakes up the juvenile forest. He tossed and turned to sleep. He sat cross-legged on the wall, his eyes once again fell on the pillow, once again in my mind. He grabbed the kapok-made pillow and cried. “Even on the first day of the tenderness, Liu Huang, the rain reminds the young green to return to the fields.” Everything in the world has recovered under the caress of the spring breeze, but unfortunately she left again.