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草尖举起一滴雨从黑夜走来。一切宁静,从清晨一滴未干的露珠开始。而我所知道的一切悲伤,也源于它。在低处,足够谦卑却也逃脱不掉死亡的宿命积攒了一夜的透明却连一个完整的上午都不能安然度过。上好的阳光对露珠来说,显得过于残忍。什么时候,一种事物的美好对于另一些事物来说变成了一种强制的暴力?我知道,另外的露珠,明天还会准时出现在我熟悉的每一片叶子上。但很多次,我还是怕自己一不小心就成为了草尖上的一颗露珠。再一不小心就会消失得不留一丝痕迹。我站在草木中间,没有说一句话。这些草木,也没有说话。秋风按时抵达它还是准时来了。穿过无数的星海、无数的长白山,也穿过我略显单薄的身体。
Grass pick up a drop of rain came from the night. Everything is quiet, starting with a drop of uncooked dew in the morning. And all the sadness I know comes from it. At a low place, enough humble but also escaped the fate of death to save the transparency of a night, but not even a full morning spent peacefully. The good sunshine is delusional for dewdrops. When is the beauty of a thing a form of compulsive violence for something else? I know that the other drops of dew will appear on every leaf I know on time tomorrow. But many times, I was still afraid that I accidentally became a dew on the grass. Accidentally disappear without leaving a trace. I stood in the middle of the vegetation, did not say a word. These vegetation, did not speak. Autumn wind arrived on time or arrived on time. Through countless Xinghai, countless Changbai Mountain, but also through my slightly thin body.