初秋的天格外空寂,浅浅的风,淡淡的恋。夕阳临近时分,那丝丝余晖透过密切而又失春色的枫叶,散落在地面。秋风轻悄拂过,几片黄叶随风萧然落下。在清洁的空气里,在透澈的阳光中,在安静的小道上,在这座小镇的所有角落,随风都能听见一曲动听的歌谣和一个个古老的故事在自由飘荡。在我刚刚学会走路的那些季节里,爷爷总会牵着我的小手,在一块块青石板上走过。镇上的 Early autumn sky exceptionally quiet, shallow wind, a touch of love. As the setting sun approached, the faint twists and turns scattered on the ground through the maple leaves that were close and spring. Autumn breeze whispered, a few yellow leaves calm down. In the clear air, in the clear sunshine, in a quiet path, in all corners of the town, the wind can hear a pleasant ballad and a story of the old floating freely. In those seasons where I just learned to walk, my grandfather always took my little hand and walked over a piece of bluestone. Town