翻开素雅宁静的书页,夕阳将它的斑驳碎光投射其间,仿佛置身于诗词的蔷薇园,耳畔是一首首清亮的歌,低吟浅唱……每当读到柳永的《雨铃霖》,眼前就仿佛出现这样一幅画面:萧瑟的柳树突兀地立在岸边,枝丫光秃秃的尽是用空旷填充,切割着荒芜的天空,惨淡的月光在湖面微微摇曳,词人独自一人在岸边踱步,心思却遥寄远方的伊人。如梦如幻,分不清虚实。抬头望见残月与它相对无言,想起自己残缺飘零的一生,愈 Opened the elegant and quiet book page, the sunset will it mottled broken projection cast in the meantime, as if exposure to the poetry of the Rose Garden, the ear is a first clear song, whispered singing ... ... whenever Liu Yong read the rain Bell Lin, "as if there was a picture in front of us: bleak willow stands abruptly on the shore, bare bare branches filled with empty, cutting the barren sky, the bleak moonlight swaying in the lake, the word alone Paced on the shore, the mind is far away from Iraqis. Dreams, tell the difference between reality and reality. Looked at the moon and its relatively silent, think of their own incomplete life, more