在记忆深处,在我居住的院子里,在弯弯的小路旁边,在矮矮的灌木丛中,有一棵合欢树。没有柏树的笔直高大,也没有柳树的轻柔飘逸,你只是大千世界中的平凡一员。你喜欢静静地看着院子里的孩子们撒着欢儿。你有一根横向伸出的树枝。大一点的孩子抱住你的腰,双手抓紧那根树枝,两只脚紧紧钩住树干,爬着爬着,一个转身就能坐在树上。 In the depths of my memory, in the yard where I live, beside the winding path, there is an acacia tree among the short bushes. No cypress is tall and straight, nor is the gentleness of the willows. You are just an ordinary member of the world. You like to quietly watch the children in the yard sorrowful. You have a branch extending horizontally. The older child clings to your waist and grasps the branch with both hands. The two feet are tightly hooked on the tree trunk, crawling and crawling. Once they turn around, they can sit on the tree.