高山流水。似乎响在耳边的声音,又好像在遥远的楚玛尔河。带着冰雪的凛冽,压过一切的北风。是从她笔端涌动的激情和神秘,还是手机里送来湖畔微风吹拂着油菜花的芬芳?都是,又都不是。目光越过日月山,我的对面就是青海湖,满眼金波银浪,敞敞亮亮的爽!面对湖畔那一片任牛羊驰骋的浓密草原,谁都想交出心中的荒凉。我一直觉得她的 High mountain water. Seems to sound in the ear, it seems like the distant Chumar River. With the snow and ice cold, over all the north wind. Is the passion and mystery surging from her pen tip, or is it the fragrance of the rape blown by the lake with a phone? Looking across the Sun and the Moon, my opposite is the Qinghai Lake, eyeful of gold and silver waves, bright and spacious open the face of the lake that cattle or sheep riding a thick grassland, who want to surrender to the desolate mind. I always think of her