细数着尘封的过往,翻阅着千年的诗篇,记忆串起了碎片,你的呼唤总在心底回响,摇曳千年,唱成最动人的那首歌谣。无论是在厚重的青铜,坚硬的竹简,曼妙的丝绢,还是在那轻柔的宣纸之上,我总能听到你的呼唤。无论是在锋利的刻刀,名贵的羊毫,纤细的手指,抑或仅仅是那简陋的木棍之下,我总能读出你的底蕴。你时 Count down the dusty past, read the Millennium Psalm, the memory string of debris, your call always echoed in the bottom of my heart, swaying millennium, sing the most touching song of the song. Whether in thick bronze, hard bamboo, graceful silk, or in the soft rice paper above, I can always hear your call. Whether in sharp knives, expensive sheepskin, slender fingers, or just that crude wooden stick, I can always read your heritage. When you are