走出冬的笼罩,有一种情结在不屈的枝桠间泛起微澜。冷风过后,云雾蒸腾,唯有山石与野松身影相伴,伫立观望。甚或葱茏成一片丛林,一弯晓月,诱惑我,化作云梯。让我握住那缕少许的月光,还有画家少有的豪迈,把心凝成彩翅,向天空渲泄。岁月皱褶,尘埃积淀。在依稀的记忆中,再次将那难以重复的渲染和皴擦,重复百遍,摘一朵白云,在晨曦中放飞。 Out of the winter enveloped, there is a complex between unruly twigs rattling. After the cold, the clouds transpiration, only accompanied by the shadow of rock and wild pine, standing wait and see. Or even Cong into a jungle, A curved Aria, to tempt me, into a ladder. Let me hold the thread a little moonlight, as well as the heroic rare heroics, the heart condensate into the color wings, vent to the sky. Years wrinkles, dust accumulation. In vague memory, once again that difficult to repeat the rendering and rubbing, repeated a hundred times, pick a white cloud, fly in the morning.