站在老屋高高的阶沿上,我可以望见她。她叫红。印象中,她总是裸着脚的,并不顾什么季节。红像一只花蝴蝶,从几扇未漆的木门里飞进飞出,一条短尾巴黑狗跟着颠颠地跑。红是对岸阎家的女儿。我们相隔一条河。她不时停下来,将手拢住嘴,朝我稚声稚气地呼,我也就稚声稚气地回。我们相约了上山下河。桃花源似的三背,春有百 Standing on the high steps of the old house, I can see her. Her name is red. Impression, she always bare feet, and regardless of the season. Red like a butterfly, flew out of several unnamed wooden doors, a short tail black dog followed Britain to run. Red is the daughter of the Yan family on the other side. We are separated by a river. From time to time, she stopped and shouted her hand to me, urging me childishly and childishly. We met up the river. Peach blossom like three back, spring has hundred