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一烟雨蒙蒙。进入德清,莫干山像被无数顶素纱帐笼罩着,山体隐约,虚无缥缈,山腰好像系了一个大围裙,山脚与山峰隔“裙”施礼、互道问候。其实,看不清它的面目也好,也就平添了几许神秘。是的,剑池神秘,干将莫邪神秘,天候地望神秘,神秘吸引了游人的脚步,神秘撩发了诗人的情思,我甚至这样想,也许这样的天气更适合铸剑。还真别说,我真的感到了“剑”的存在。人有时会怪怪的,你想啥就“来”啥。这不,昨晚在电脑上看截图,那山头就像一枝枝剑柄,及至
A misty rain. Into the Deqing, Mogan like numerous top-count yarn cage covered, the mountain vague, nothingness, the mountain seems to be tied to a large aprons, the foothills and peaks separated “skirt ” salute, mutual greetings. In fact, it can not see the face of it, adding a little mystery. Yes, the sword pool mysterious, dry Moye mysterious, heaven and earth to look mysterious, mysterious to attract the tourists, mysterious tease poet’s feelings, I even think so, maybe this weather is more suitable for swords. Really not to mention, I really felt the existence of “sword”. People sometimes strange, what you want to “to ” Han. This is not, last night on the computer to see a screenshot, that hill is like a stick hilt, until