倚窗独坐,秋风薄凉。暗夜一缕斑驳的灯光,映上我的面庞。白天的一场雨,让窗外的蝉声又多了一点儿生命的忧伤,在路边的草丛下,哀唱季节的轮回。江南的秋,有时不是看出来的,它需要听。听蝉声由急到徐由强到弱,你就知道秋由远而近由近而远,像听人的跫(qióng)音,从青年走到中年,又从中年走向时间深处。当然也可听风中的叶,那扑扑啪啪的声音,是饱汁的夏叶,相知相依。而叶子发出哗哗 Leaning on the window alone, autumn cool. A ray of mottled light night, reflecting my face. A rainy day, so that the cicadas outside the window a little more sad life, under the grass by the roadside, mourn the season of reincarnation. Autumn in the south, sometimes not seen, it needs to listen. Listen to the cicada from impatience Xu Youqiang to weak, you know that autumn is far from near and far, like listening to human 跫 (qióng) sound, from young to middle age, but also from middle age to the depths of time. Of course, you can listen to the wind in the leaves, the flapping pop sound is full of summer leaves, knowing each other. The leaves made a rushing