闲来无事,一个人在乡间的小道上走走,很惬意。 田埂上草很多,枯黄的,没有规律胡乱地搭在道上,像 生命之火油尽灯枯的人,蜷着身子,在风中瑟瑟。用手轻轻一 折,断了,脆弱得让人心疼,很有些凄凉的味道。偶尔钻出一 两只小飞虫,吓人一跳。平静如死水的心湖顿时漾起圈圈涟 漪,冲散了满心淡淡的哀伤。 Nothing else is going on. It’s a pleasure to walk on a country road. Tian Hao has a lot of grass and is yellow, and he does not follow the law in a random manner. Like the oil of life, the lighter one’s own, squats in the wind and sings in the wind. With one hand folded and broken, it was fragile and painful. It was a bit bleak. Occasionally, one or two small flying insects were drilled and made a terrible jump. The calm lake, like the backwaters, suddenly burst into circles and smashed the sadness that filled the heart.