春之苏当一只脚在薄冰上划过,那些记忆的梅花如雪花般散去,一瓣一瓣飘去很远。水还是那潭水,可经过了冰冻和溶解,它已经不是当初的水了。春天就这样,悄无声息地,坦坦荡荡地踮起脚尖,立在水波之上。谁还能说,她还是去年的样子,在一片落叶中飞翔?在这个季节,更多是泥土的思考,就像一个人,深深地低下头,凝视胸口,需要有多么 Spring of the Soviet Union when one foot across the thin ice, those memories of the plum blossom scattered like snowflakes, a petals drift far away. Water or that lake water, after freezing and dissolving, it is not the original water. Spring is so, quietly, tantamount to tiptoe, standing above the waves. Who can still say that she still last year, flying in the leaves? In this season, more soil thinking, like a person, deeply bowed his head, staring at the chest, how much