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常在心里飘飘袅袅的,是故乡的炊烟。故乡的炊烟,总是最早欢迎黎明最后送走黄昏。早起的母亲踏着第一缕晨曦,忙碌在通红的灶门前,那长长的竹制的吹火筒,在母亲口中吹出古老的乡韵,被稻米惹得香喷喷的。当夕阳西坠的时候,劳累一天的父亲,扛着锄头,吆喝着牛儿,蹒跚在苍茫暮色里,迎
Often fluttering in my heart is the smoke of my hometown. The smoke of the hometown is always the earliest to welcome the dawn to send away the evening. The mother who had got up early marched on the first morning and was busy in front of the red stove. The long bamboo blowpipes blew out the ancient charm in the mother’s mouth and was irritated by rice. When the sun sets and sinks, the father who has worked hard one day, taking care of the girl’s head, squeezing the cows, linger in the sky, welcome