一、“真诗只在民间”破败凋敝的江南小镇。濛濛冷雨中,传来竹杖敲打石板路的声音:“笃、笃、笃……”声音单调、凄凉,象是蕴含着巨大的、说不出来的悲痛。随着这由远而近的节奏,二胡喑哑的过门流了过去,一丝微微颤抖的女童音飘来了:“正月里来是新春,家家户户点红灯,人家 First, “true poetry only in the civil” dilapidated southern town. In the cold rain, the voice of a bamboo stick on a stone road came: “Benedict, Benedict, Benedict ...” The voice was monotonous and desolate, as if it contained a huge and unspeakable grief. With the rhythm of far and near, erhu dumb over the door, a slight trembling girl floated: "The first lunar month is the spring, every household red light, people