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15,16,17,是我的青春么?15岁,我看到了孩童时存留的快乐和稚嫩。没有竞争,没有压力,似乎美好得只有快乐。走廊上踢毽子、跳绳的游戏尽管只属于童年却依然为我们这些童心未泯的人所爱,简单却快乐。那些欢笑穿过了年迈的爷爷奶奶的低矮的飘着袅袅炊烟的房屋,增添了他们欣慰的笑意;那些轻快在春天田野刚冒出的新芽上,泛起了如海涛般汹涌的绿浪;那些简单穿过了重重高楼,从那些个灰黑色的几何中透出明媚的阳光、清新的风。
15,16,17, is my youth? 15 years old, I see the child's happiness and innocence. No competition, no pressure, it seems beautiful happy only. In the corridors playing the shuttlecock, skipping rope game, although only belongs to childhood but still for those of us innocent people love, simple but happy. Those who laugh through the elderly grandparents, the low floating curl of smoke houses added to their gratifying smile; those who lightly emerging in the spring field just sprouting up like a stormy sea like green Waves; those who simply across the tall buildings, from those gray-black geometry revealed the bright sunshine, fresh air.