有人说:故乡的歌是一支清远的笛,总在有月亮的晚上响起;故乡的面貌是一种模糊了的怅惘,仿佛梦里的挥手别离。而自己如同一只放飞的风筝,正朝着远处飞去,可线端还是压在故乡老堂屋的石板下。故乡让我感到树高千尺,随时都有可能落叶归根。故乡是我出生时的摇篮,又是我最终的归宿;是一种挣脱,又是一种牵系;是最能唤起愁绪,又最能抚平心灵创伤的地方。 Some people say: The song of the hometown is a Qingyuan flute, and it always sounds on the night of the moon. The appearance of the hometown is a kind of vague ambiguity, as if waving in a dream. And like a flying kite, he is flying towards the distance, but the line end is still under the stone slabs in the old hall of his hometown. My hometown makes me feel taller, and at any moment it is possible to return to the root. My hometown was the cradle of my birth, and it was my final destination. It was a break-up, but it was also a kind of detachment; it was the place that could arouse the most melancholy and healed the soul.