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秋天最后一片枯叶在清冷的风中瑟瑟摇曳,怀着悠远的记忆与深深的感怀,讲述着生命的无涯。一阵更为遒劲的风扫过,最后一片叶子,恋恋不舍地从枝头飘落下来。于是,秋天乘着南飞雁的翅膀去了;冬天,随着叶落的曲线来了。在这个萧条、清冷的季节,花儿的梦破了,蝶儿的翼残了,树叶都落尽了,诗歌却从光秃秃的树枝间鲜活地生长出来,读着它,我的心底被染上了一层明亮的绿色,似乎还有暖暧的橘色的阳光斜洒下来。难道,在寒冷的季节,品读诗歌也是一种取暖的方式?
The last dead leaves in the autumn swayed in the cold wind, with distant memory and deep feelings, telling the boundlessness of life. A more vigorous wind swept, and the last leaf reluctantly fell from the branch. As a result, the autumn went on the wings of Nan Feiyan; in winter, the curve of the leaves fell. In this depressing, cold season, the dream of the flower broke, the wing of the butterfly was crippled, the leaves were all gone, and the poem grew out of the bare branches, reading it, and my heart was dyed. A bright green layer appeared, and it seemed that there was still warm orange sunlight shook down. Is it a way of warming up to read poetry during the cold season?