清冷的河面上没有一丝风,冉老头撑着划子船,好像滑行在一面平整的镜子上。镜子尽头的河岸上,散落着一摊摊大大小小的黑斑,那是顽劣的孩子烧荒后留下的痕迹。再远处,目力尽头的上游,是一片灰苍苍的树林,已失却了夏季的蓬勃碧绿,只剩下枯寂的枝杈,好似落了一层灰,没有一点生气。即使 No trace of wind on the cold river, Ran old man props a rowing boat, as if gliding on a smooth mirror. Mirror the end of the riverbank, scattered with a large and small spots on the black spots, it is left behind by the naughty child burned traces. Farther away, the upper reaches of the eyesight end, is a gray gray woods, has lost the summer of the turquoise green, leaving only withered twigs, like falling a layer of ash, not a little angry. even if