一风,温都不令的风,真的让我无法理解。那么任性,那么惨烈,那么持久,总是从西边的山坡上吹过来。村里的树,杨树和榆树,枝条总是朝向东方飞扬着。那一刻,你无法避开柯罗,柯罗的《一阵风》。有时候,虽然不是白毛风,但那风仍然像一只手,没 A wind, the temperature is not the wind, I really can not understand. So headstrong, so fierce, so long-lasting, always blowing from the west side of the hillside. The trees in the village, poplars and elms, the branches always fly toward the east. At that moment, you can not avoid Coro, Coro's “gust of wind.” Sometimes, the wind is still like a hand, though not white-haired