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这一年,春天来的较早。在我满月的前几天,北京已经刮过两三次大风。是的,北京的春风似乎不是把春天送来,而是狂暴地要把春天吹跑。在那年月,人们只知道砍树,不晓得栽树,慢慢的山成了秃山,地成了光地。从前,就连我们的小小的坟地上也有三五株柏树,可是到我父亲这一辈,这已经变为传说了。北边的秃山挡不住来自塞外的狂风,北京的城
This year, spring comes earlier. In the days before my full moon, Beijing had already had two or three gales of wind. Yes, the spring breeze in Beijing does not seem to send the spring, but it is furious to blow away the spring. In those days, people only know that cutting trees, do not know planting trees, mountains slowly into bald hills, the ground has become a light. Once upon a time there were thirty-five cypress trees in our little burial ground, but it was a legend to my father's generation. Bald mountain in the north can not stop the wind from the outside, the city of Beijing