我的住所幽深,院内树木繁茂。久别之后,房子的许多去处吸引我躲进去尽情享受归来的温馨。花园里长起神奇的灌木丛,散发出我从未领受过的芬芳。我种在花园深处的杨树,原来是那么细弱,那么不起眼,现在竟长成了大树。它直插云天,表皮上有了智慧的皱纹,梢头不停地颤动着新叶。最后认出我的是栗树。当我走近时,它们光裸干枯的、高耸纷繁的枝条,显出高深莫测和满怀敌意的神态,而在它们躯干周围正萌动着无孔不入的智利的春天。我每 My residence is deep, the hospital wooded. After a long absence, many places in the house drove me to hide and enjoy the warmth of return. The garden grows magical shrubs, emitting the fragrance I have never had before. The kind of poplar I plant in the garden is so weak, so modest, and now it grows into a big tree. It is in line with sky, withered wrinkles on the epidermis, and constantly shook the new leaves. The last to recognize me is the chestnut tree. As I approached, their bare withered, towering branches showed an inscrutable and hostile demeanor, and a spring of pervasive Chile was advancing around their torso. I each