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深山里,一座古老的石亭边,那棵上了年纪的桃树正在开花。在这里,季节演绎,流转却宁静,和谐而自然。坐在潮潮的石凳上,打开一本巴掌厚的小书,无边光景簇拥在我周围。书本的第九十页和第九十一页之间,一枚曾经新鲜的银杏叶书签,从上个春季一直沉睡到现在。其实我多想给那芬芳的记忆别上几枚小小的书签,好使我翻阅的那个夜晚,能循着一线淡雅的月光,直接走进更远的春天。那枚书签将是一片素雅的花瓣、一只飞翔的蜜蜂、一缕轻巧的馨香、一杯桃花时节下缸的酒、一个遗失在远方的风筝,或者,是你从容而微淡的一个笑容,
In the mountains, an ancient Shiting side, the old peach tree is blooming. Here, the seasonal interpretation, the transfer is quiet, harmonious and natural. Sitting on the tide of the stone bench, open a small slap in the face of a book, boundless surrounded by me. Between the 90th and the 91st pages of the book, a used gingko leaf bookmark has been sleeping since last spring until now. In fact, I would like to give that fragrant memory a few small bookmarks, so that I read the night, can follow the graceful moonlight, directly into the farther the spring. The bookmark will be an elegant flower petal, a flying bee, a ray of light fragrance, a cup of peach wine, a lost kite in the distance, or you are a light and a smile,