秋风又起,细细的,柔柔的。去年的这个时节,我去了一个令我毕生难忘的小镇——枫泾。枫泾的河静静的,就像时光一样,在不知不觉中流淌,安谧而祥和。河边时而停泊着几叶小舟,舟上的老翁拿着一杆烟,慢慢地吸,悠悠地吐……通往河边的石阶上有一层薄薄的青苔,几个妇人坐在石阶上洗衣、淘米、拣菜,用悠扬的嗓音唱着古老的歌谣,如同圣歌一般纯洁,飘荡在我的耳际。 The autumn began again, thin and soft. This time last year, I went to a small town where I never forget. The river in Fengjing is quiet, just like the time, flowing in unconsciously, peaceful and peaceful. There was a leafy boat parked by the river. The old man on the boat took a shot of smoke, slowly sucked it, and spit it out... There was a thin layer of moss on the stone steps that led to the river. Several women sat on it. Washing the stone steps, washing rice, picking dishes, singing old songs in melodious voices, as if the sacred songs are generally pure, floating in my ears.