这是个秋高气爽的季节。动物们的身体早已为璀璨的金色绒毛所覆盖。它们为这迟到的辉煌懊丧不已。它们在凉幽幽的河水里濯洗着四蹄,还不时地伸着头,贪婪地探寻着秋天里任意一个猎物。我站在古老的望楼上,一门心思地等待着吹响下午五点的角笛。笛声长一短三,似古老的回忆慢悠悠穿过黄昏伊始的云天而去。我在想,它的音色一定会浸入褐色土壤 This is a cool autumn season. The animal's body has long been covered with bright golden fluff. They are frustrated by the late glory. They wash four hooves in the cool, foul river, and from time to time stretch out their heads to greedily search for any one of the prey in the fall. Standing on the ancient watchtower, I waited intently for the horn to be sounded at five o'clock in the afternoon. Whistle long, short, old reminiscences leisurely through the clouds at the beginning of the evening away. I think, it's tone will be immersed in brown soil