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翻开幽兰色封面的日记本,里面可谓是五彩斑斓了:有小草般碧绿的,有小溪般清澈的,有鲜花般馨鲜的…… 里面还有我父亲苍老的渴望。 父亲的渴望是褐黄色的,就像他所耕耘的土地的颜色,凝重而雄浑。 一条小溪从村子旁边淌过。流向父亲多年耕耘的田野。溪水年复一年地流过去,又流过云。父亲和他那陪伴多年的老牛也年复一年地在那里耕耘。每当初春时分,小溪总是张着它那贪婪的嘴,渴望着源头;每年父亲播下一抔种子的时候,他总是瞪着他皱纹底下明亮而有神的眼睛渴望着田里的收成。
Open the orchids cover diary, which can be described as colorful: a grass-like green, a stream-like clear, fresh flowers like ... ... there are my father’s old desire. My father’s desire is brownish yellow, just as the color of his cultivated land is dignified and vigorous. A stream flows by the village. Flow to his father many years of hard work in the field. The stream flows year after year and flows through the clouds again. My father and his cow, who accompanied for many years, worked there year after year. Whenever early spring hours, the stream always hangs its greedy mouth, longing for the source; every year when his father sowed a seed, he always stared at his bright, god-like eyes under his wrinkles, longing for the fields harvest.