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A small breeze stole in, slightly and gently at first, with the light pink flowers flying and falling softly in the light blue sky, like the elegant melodious sound of Guzheng(a kind of Chinese traditional musical instrument), and the fragrant poetic lines, and the colurful butterflies flying and dancing. I was fascinated in the scene of the dance of the falling flowers. Only after a while, however, the wind was growing stronger, scraping and swinging the beautiful dresses of tung flowers to and fro in the air, and stirring up the fallen flowers and dust spreading all over the street. Soon came down the raindrops, as big as beans, dropping onto my skin, cool and painful. I hurried back to my room and wached on the balcony. The branches were rustling in the wind and rain, and the flowers on the tree were swaying and falling in succession, which occurred to me the verse that “The wind blows the autumn leaves falling onto the ground, which again are blown up by the wind.”But at the time, I was not brought to the beautiful artistic conception but quite a pity“to appriciate the Spring till ending, only leaving a wet garment with tears.”These beautiful flowers, once gentle and lovely and voluptuous, having attracted bees and butterflies in a continuous stream, could not withstand the attack of wind and rain, falling down and scattering on the earth, and turned into spring mud with much desolation from the disappearance of flourish and the dreams fading away.
有点长O(∩_∩)O~ 慢慢走,欣赏啊↖(^ω^)↗ |
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