当儿时的回忆已逐渐模糊不清,我回到了江南的故乡小城。在这里,琐碎的记忆被完整拼凑,那熟悉的人,熟悉的城,熟悉的空气,粘住了我这离人的无尽牵挂。“香叶,嫩芽。慕诗客,爱僧家……”小城的清晨在阿婆的哼唱声中开始了。清晨总有无数种办法唤醒你模糊不清的神智,小鸟儿轻快动听的大合唱,扑面而来青草味道的冷空气,早起小贩们活力四射的叫卖声,都会让被窝里的孩子们不情愿地睁开惺忪的睡眼。 When childhood memories have gradually blurred, I returned to the hometown of southern town. Here, the trivial memory is completely pieced together, that familiar people, familiar city, familiar air, glued to my endless care of people. “Geranium, buds. Mu poetry, love Monk home ... ” The early morning of the town in the lady’s hum began. There are countless ways in the early morning to awaken your obscure mind, the little chorus of chords, the cold air blowing in the grass, the hawkish horns of early hawkers, and the recklessness of the children in the blanket To open the bleary sleepy eyes.