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历史的年轮滚滚而来,辗转过多少个四季的欢笑与孤寂,碾压过几度的晨光熹微与暮霭沉沉,又听风将过往传颂,携来阵阵暗香盈袖。它跋山涉水途经无数,终于在我面前停驻。仆仆风尘中,我恍惚看到了那庭院深深,几株寂寞的梧桐已添了新绿,葱葱郁郁。此刻正有一位故人,无言独上西楼,仰望苍穹,看到那如星空中有一弯明月如钩。皎洁的月光轻轻流泻着,掠过繁茂的梧桐树,于庭院里栽下一地斑驳的剪影。故人回首,却见月满西楼,似永远也遣散不掉
The history of the rings rolling billowing, rolling around the number of four seasons of laughter and loneliness, rolling a few degrees of dawn and evening gloom dawn, but also listen to the wind will pass the past, brought bursts of fragrance. It traveled through numerous mountains and rivers, finally parked in front of me. Servant of the dusty, I saw that courtyard deep trance, a few strains of lonely Sycamore has added a new green, lush. At the moment there is an old man, speechless alone on the West Wing, looking at the sky, see that there is a moon like a star in the sky as a hook. The moonlight gently flowed through the lush Plane trees planted in the yard mottled silhouette. Therefore, people look back, but see the full West Building, seems to be demobilized forever