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家乡的路是由青石板铺成的,散发着泥土的芬芳和清晨露水的味道,一直延伸到梦的深处。秋天里,家乡有孩子稚嫩的笑声,和着老人沧桑的笑声,就好似荷叶上凝着的晶莹露水般圆润,欢快地打着转。田野上,有皮肤黝黑的汉子和亮得出油的稻谷,还有闪烁在晨光中的汗珠,映着天边刚升起的朝阳。老屋里,有在地里忙得满头大汗又匆匆赶回来生火做饭的老妇,空气里弥漫着柴火的气息,老屋上头,一缕袅袅的炊烟宣告着一天劳动的结束,勾勒出一派祥和静谧之
Home Road is paved with bluestone, exudes the fragrance of the soil and morning dew, has been extended to the depths of the dream. Autumn, the hometown of children with innocent laughter, and the vicissitudes of the elderly laughter, like lotus leaf condensate crystal dew-like mellow, mercurial, mercurial vapor In the fields, there are dark-skinned men and brightly-oiled paddy, and the sweat glistening in the morning light, rising to the newly rising sun on the horizon. In the old house, there was an old woman sweating wildly in the field and hurried back to cooking for fire. There was a breath of firewood in the air. The old house was above her head. A curl of smoke declared the end of one day’s work. A quiet and peaceful school