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窗外,微风轻拂着被雨水浣洗过的芭蕉,几只发懒的知了哼唱着夏日的赞歌。古铜色的书桌上一杯散发出热气的香茗,一本发黄的线装书,凭窗而坐。在厌倦了世俗的喧嚣后,我似乎一直在寻找着能让梦想憩息的地方……“寻寻觅觅,冷冷清清,凄凄惨惨戚戚。”在那遥远的国度有一个声音穿越时空的隧道向我低喃着。而我却伫立在那茫然的渡口。“渡向何方?”我寻找着声音的来处。“渡向何方?”它再度响起如冬日的寒风一样
Outside the window, the breeze breeze was banana washed by the rain, a few lazy to know humming summer hymn. Bronze desk cup of hot tea exudes a yellow wire installed book, sit by the window. After weary of worldly noises, I seem to have been looking for a place where my dreams can be retired ... “” Seeking, desolate, desolate, miserable. “” In that distant country there is a voice through time and space The tunnel whispered to me. And I stood in that dizzy ferry. “To where?” I look for the sound of the place. “Where to ferry?” It again sounded the same as the winter’s cold