高原的冬天到了,那被秋风染成赤、橙、黄、绿、青、蓝、紫的桦树林、枫树林和杂木林,一夜之间就被寒风的剃刀刮得干干净净,虽然,还没有下雪,但霜冻开始了。 我室内的几盆鲜花已经开始枯萎了,家徒四壁,没有花,就显得空旷和毫无生气。床是冰冷的,被子是僵硬的,团在冰窖般的被窝里,久久难以入睡。望着窗外的寒月,竟有一丝丝的温暖,“举头望明月,低头思故乡”,淡淡的乡愁慢慢地浸入孤独和惆 The winter of the plateau is over, and the birch, maple and mixed woods dyed red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple by the autumn wind are cleaned overnight by the cold razor. Not yet snow, but the frost began. Several pots of flowers in my room have begun to wilt, and there are no walls or walls. Without flowers, it seems empty and lifeless. The bed was cold, the quilt was stiff, and the group was in a iced pit-like blanket, a long time difficult to fall asleep. Looking out the window of the Han Dynasty, there is a trace of warmth, “look up the moon, bow their heads home,” a touch of nostalgia slowly immersed in loneliness and 惆