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这注定是一条年复一年的经典线路,关于一粒米的旅行。五月,若隐若现的布谷声中,秧苗出落得青翠欲滴,农人拿来箩筐,秧苗端坐在农人晃悠悠的箩筐上,一路挤闪路边的野草,担子跌落着亮晶晶的水滴,以一个季节的成人礼的方式,走向天光云影的秧田。一粒米就这样开始旅行。它一出门,就迎面遭遇一场兜头雨。一场雨在天地间洋洋洒洒地下着,秧田翻着气泡,秧苗在雨中,舒展腰肢,歪着小脑袋,咧着嘴,尽情吮吸。秧田需要汩汩的水,小河的水,沿着水渠“哗哗”流淌。这
This is bound to be a year after year classic line, about a grain of rice travel. May, looming cloth Valley sound, the seedlings fall into the verdant, peasants brought baskets, seedlings sitting in the swinging peasant baskets, crowded flash roadside weeds, the burden fell with sparkling water droplets to One season of adult ceremony approach to sky seedling clouds. So a grain of rice began to travel. When it went out, it encountered a rain on its face. A rain in the world between the sporadic ground, seedling over the air bubbles, seedlings in the rain, stretching waist, tilted his head, grinning, enjoy sucking. Seedling needs shy water, stream water, along the canal “rushing ” flowing. This