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冬天还在南下的路上,冷雨却已捷足先登,树叶已将离开深秋,我等待的一切却还没有出现。周柏与唐槐依然站立在凹凸了千年的古园中,柏叶萧疏,像无数折扇轻摇,每一扇针叶之后,都或坐或卧着一个含愁凝睇的女子,惟恐秋扇见捐。北风在十点一刻徘徊,柏的气息清苦微涩,是谨小慎微的窥探。槐则精怪许多,它枝叶浓密,类似心思缜密的智者,一枝羽状复叶华美如一尾孔雀翎,透出诡谲之气。我抚摸它黑色的皮肤,它是传说
Winter is still on the road south, the cold rain has been pre-empted, the leaves have left late autumn, I have not seen everything yet to appear. Zhou Bai and Tang Huai still stand in the bumpy millennium of the ancient garden, Bo Ye Xiao Shu, like countless folding fans rocking, after each coniferous, are sitting or lying with a worry condensate watching the woman, afraid of autumn fans See donations. North wind hovering at ten o’clock, Bo’s breathless bitter astringent, is a cautious spy. Huai elite strange many, it is dense foliage, similar to thoughtful wise, a pinnate feather leaf like a peacock feather, revealing the spirit of treacherous. I touch it black skin, it is legend