几天的阳光在柳条上撒下的一抹嫩绿,被尘土掩埋得有些憔悴色了,是需要一次洗涤。还有干裂的大地和树根也早已期待着雨。雨却迟疑着。 我怀想着故乡的雷声和雨声。那隆隆的有力的搏击,从山谷反响到山谷,仿佛春之芽就从冻土里震动,惊醒,而怒茁出来。细草样柔的雨丝又

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问题    几天的阳光在柳条上撒下的一抹嫩绿,被尘土掩埋得有些憔悴色了,是需要一次洗涤。还有干裂的大地和树根也早已期待着雨。雨却迟疑着。
   我怀想着故乡的雷声和雨声。那隆隆的有力的搏击,从山谷反响到山谷,仿佛春之芽就从冻土里震动,惊醒,而怒茁出来。细草样柔的雨丝又以温存之手抚摸它;使它簇生油绿的枝叶而开出红色的花.这些如乡愁一样萦绕的怀想使我忧郁了。

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答案 The few days’ sunlight had splashed the willow twigs with the tender green of new growth, but the dust that covered on them made them seem tired and withered, in need of a wash. And the parched, split earth and tree-roots had long since been awaiting rain. But the rain hesitated. I remember fondly the sounds of thunder and rain in my hometown. Those mighty crashes rumbled and reverberated from mountain valley to mountain valley, as if the new shoots of spring were shaking in the frozen ground, awakening, and bursting forth with a terrifying vigor. Threads of rain, soft as fine grass, would then caress them with a tender hand, so that clumps of glossy green leaves would sprout forth and red flowers burst open. Those fond recollections lingered with me like a kind of homesickness, leaving me dejected.

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