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当大地褪去深绿色,夏日的最后一只田蛙停止歌唱,枫树的叶子上没有了雨痕,风中隐约传来田野里稻子与雨后的泥土混在一起的香气。我静静地坐在和凡.高画中一样的向日葵田旁,细听……高山流水之间,我隐约听到雨露滑过老树的树皮,沿着曲曲折折的路径,最终滴落在秋日的泥土中——总有人会像一滴雨露,滋润着老树。放学的路上总是拥挤喧闹的,匆匆而过的人们,似乎只注意到了五彩缤纷的霓虹灯,却不会停下来
When the earth faded dark green, the last frog of the summer stopped singing, there was no rain on the leaves of the maple, and the smell of the rice mixed with the soil after the rain loomed in the wind. I sit quietly with Van Gogh in the same sunflowers field, listen ... ... between the mountains and rivers, I vaguely heard the rain dripping over the tree bark, along the twists and turns of the path, eventually dripping In the autumn soil - someone will always be like a drop of rain, nourishing the old tree. People are always crowded and noisy on the way out of school, and the people in a hurry seem to notice only the colorful neon lights, but they will not stop