如果秋风来得再迟一点,假如官道梁依然绿色遍野,草丛也好,山林也好,会积攒更有用的安慰。但是,秋风里已是辽阔的幽怨,大风浩荡,吹得门窗晃荡,吹起落叶,就像吹开漫长人间干涩的状纸。一路上的默默念叨,甚至杀猪宰羊,用与我们休戚相关的事物做抵押。噢!被阳光反复梳理的马鬃,只要奔跑,足以掀动方寸山川。我不断想到的是词语,为什么我心中常常回响旷野里的一两声吼叫,是提醒吗?只剩下光洁的拴马桩了,还瞭望不见尘 If the autumn wind comes a little later, if the official Road beam is still green, grass or mountains, will save more useful comfort. However, the autumn wind is already a vast resentment, the mighty wind blowing the windows and doors sloshing, blowing leaves, like blowing a long dry paper. Silently talking along the way, and even killing pig slaughter sheep, with the rest of our lives related to things as a mortgage. Oh! The horse bristles, repeatedly combed by the sunshine, run enough to tilt the mountains. I keep thinking of words, why in my heart often echoed in the wilderness one or two roar, is to remind it? Only left behind the smooth tied piles, but also hope to see the dust