有一年的秋天,我暂居在一座离故乡很近的南方城市。那座城市在整个秋季里总是飘着细雨,也总有月桂的淡淡芳香,随着细雨一起飘扬,像我记忆中的故乡一样。一天的深夜,我在沙沙的雨声中安静地醒来,如同在每一天的晨光铺展中宁静地睁开眼睛一般自然。眼前有一只蝴蝶在飞,在一条山路上,扑闪扑闪地飞。山路弯弯绕绕,有竹林和溪水。那只蝴蝶闪着鹅黄的翅膀,在竹林里穿行,在溪水上流连,又在桂树的枝影里陷入迷途。我在那个暗夜里安静地看着它飞,并不担心细雨打湿它的翅膀。我知道那是一只从我的梦境里飞出的蝴蝶,所有的风雨都淋不湿它, One autumn, I live in a southern city very close to my hometown. The city is always drizzling throughout the fall, and there is always a touch of laurel fragrance, floating with the drizzle, just as I remember in my hometown. One night late in the morning, I woke up quietly in the rustling rain, just as it was natural to open my eyes quietly during the dawn of the day. In front of a butterfly flying, on a mountain road, fluttering fly. Winding road around the winding, bamboo and streams. The butterfly flashes its goose-yellow wings, goes through the bamboo forest, linger on the water, and catches its way in the twigs of laurels. I quietly watched it fly in that dark night, not worried about the rain wet its wings. I know that it is a butterfly flying from my dream, all the wind and rain do not wet it,