窗外雨潺潺,秋意阑珊。青石板上的雨声,身边人的吴侬软语,以及麻雀的啾啁声,交织成一幅清冷的黛色民乐小调。谈起故乡,首先想到的不是小桥流水人家,不是绿树粉墙黛瓦,而是那曲清幽的《姑苏行》。那是何等行云流水般的曲调,犹如一匹光滑的绸缎,轻柔地滑过你的周身。当笛声在寂寥无人的雨巷中悠然响起时,便忍不住低吟起那首描写家乡的诗来:“枳篱茅舍掩苍苔,乞竹分花手自栽。不 Gurgling rain outside the window, fall discouraged. Rain on the bluestone, around the people of Nong Nong soft language, and the sparrow chirp, intertwined into a cool Dai folk music minor. Talking about hometown, the first thought is not a bridge people, not the green Fenqiangdaiwa, but Naqu quiet ”Gusu.“ That is how smooth the melody, like a smooth satin, gently glide over your whole body. When the flute sounded leisurely in the solitude of the lonely alley, they could not help but whisper the poem that portrays the hometown: ”Frangipani Horseshoes