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那一年的冬天,下了一场大雪,雪花纷纷扬扬、漫天飞舞中,我走向田野。我听到阴冷斜长的冰凌儿,从身后的屋檐下啪的一声碎在地上,晶莹的雪水润在我的脸上,脚下咯咯吱吱的声响使原野变得空旷,那一瞬间的感觉真是清新而又异样。村头的树木是银白的,屋顶是银白的,原野更是银白得没有界限,一望无际的洁白,让人眼前豁亮,心里充满了少有的纯粹。我就那么纯粹着,仿佛是让这纯粹牢牢地保持一天,一年,一生。
In the winter of that year, there was a heavy snowfall. Snowflakes rose and the sky was flying. I went to the fields. I heard the cold and lingering ice linger, slamming from the back of the eaves and smashing it on the ground. The crystal snow was running on my face. The squeaking noise from the foot made the field empty and the feeling of that moment. It is fresh and strange. The trees at the head of the village are silvery, and the roofs are silvery. The wilderness is even more silver and white with no boundaries. The endless whiteness makes people brighten their eyes and their hearts are filled with rare pure things. I was so pure, as if it were to keep this purely firm for a day, a year, and a lifetime.