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捂了一冬,等了一冬,盼了一冬,山才知道,它窝囊了一冬。那是浪费生命呀,它不能把心事就这样存放在冰天雪地之下,慢慢地长膘,像狗熊似的。想到此,它脱下了雪盔,把冰冷的灶烧得温暖,烧出了袅袅的炊烟。它把所有的盼望都变成了笋,使劲地拱,让匍匐的石头站了起来。它惊喜地看到,它打开了门,钻了出来,拱了出来,挤了出来,天被戳了无数个孔,无数个捅天的窟窿。竹笋节节向上,山随着抖掉一身的残梦冰渣,彻彻底底地脱壳,从地下钻了出来,脚直了,筋活了,
Cover a winter, waiting for a winter, looking forward to a winter, the mountain only know that it wrecked a winter. It is a waste of life, it can not be the mind so stored under the ice and snow, slowly grow, like a bear-like. Think of it, it took off the snow helmet, the cold stove burned warm, curled smoke curl. It turned all hope into bamboo shoots, arching hard and letting the prostrate stone stand up. It was pleasantly surprised to see that it opened the door, drilled it, arched it, squeezed it out, and the sky was stamped with countless holes and countless holes that stabbed the sky. Bamboo shoots steadily up, the mountain shake off a residual dream ice cream, thoroughly unhulled, drilled from the ground, feet straight, tendon,