推窗远眺,阳光灿烂。江南,又是一个无雪的冬天,没有雪的冬天真是无聊啊。没有花开,没有鸟鸣,只有阴冷的风,带着湖上的潮气,冰冷地闯入人的心怀。我走回书房,书房的墙上挂着一幅油画,那是北国的白桦林啊,白桦林的诗意,都写在冬天。它是我的战友千里迢迢带给我的,他说,看到这些白桦林,你就会想起高高的大兴安岭,想起广袤的呼伦贝尔草原,想起你的达斡尔战友,想起我们一齐高擎红旗,手握钢枪,在漫天大雪里行进的日子。 Push the window overlooking the sunny. Jiangnan, but also a snow-free winter, winter without snow ah really boring. No flowers, no birds, only the cold wind, with the tide on the lake, cold into the hearts of people. I went back to my study, with a painting hanging on the wall of the study. It was a birch forest in the north. The birch forest was written in winter. It is my comrades all the way to bring me, he said, to see these birch forests, you will think of the high Daxinganling, remembered the vast Hulunbuir grasslands, think of your Daur comrades, think of us together to raise the red flag, hand Hold a steel gun, walking in the snow in the days.