桃花盛开的时候,我走进了高椅,走进了这个淳朴古老的村庄。巫水河从它的村前流过,明清遗风在春水中颤动。马头墙上的那一点绿色于春光里晃了出来,青砖黛瓦从时光的那头显露古村历经风雨洗刷的厚重。坐在太师椅上,悉心翻阅六百年的诗文,桃花五瓣重叠着春意盎然的梦。走在古村的小巷,我用脚步轻叩它的心扉。凝重和沧桑布满长着青苔的老墙,醉月楼 When the peach blossoms in full bloom, I walked into the high chair and walked into this honest ancient village. Witch River flows from its front of the village, the legacy of the Ming and Qing trembles in the spring water. The green on the horse’s head dangled out in the spring, and the brick Daiwa revealed the ancient village after heavy rain and wind from the other side of the road. Sitting on the armchair, carefully read six centuries of poetry, peach overlapping five spring dreams. Walking in the alley of the ancient village, I tapped it with my footsteps. Dignified and vicissitudes of life covered with the moss of the old wall, drunk on the floor