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我喜欢的河流,她最好没有名字。河里的水不要过深游动的鱼、摇动的水草最好都明明白白。我喜欢她在山涧行走,在村前环绕把村东桃花的信息,带到村西的码头,把村北的小调带到村南正在梳妆的窗口,把灯盏摇曳的夜晚带入温馨浪漫的软语。我喜欢她一路歌唱,歌唱枯萎的小草一只寻找米饭的蚂蚁,以及正在恋爱的昆虫。我喜欢她义无反顾一直朝最低处走去,能够在最低时把歌声唱得最响。在贫血的山河再次布下月亮弯刀那些穿透黑暗的光,迅速枯萎,锈蚀这个秋天,一枚月在草地沉没。那些残存的绿是她最后对我的喊声。
I like the river, she best no name. Do not swim too deep in the water of the river fish, shaking the plants are best to be plainly. I like her walking in the mountain stream, in front of the village around the village peach blossom information to the west of the pier, the village north of the minor to the village is dressing the window, the lamp swaying night into the warm romantic soft language . I like her singing all the way, singing a withered grass ants looking for rice, and the insects are falling in love. I like her to go all the way to the lowest point and be able to sing the song the loudest at a minimum. In the anemic mountains and rivers once again planted the moon machetes those who penetrate the dark light, quickly wilt, rust this fall, one month in the grass sank. The remnants of the green is her last cry to me.