Mid-Autumn Festival last night. At dusk, a big curtain of mica screen hung in the western sky, which covered the light tide of the sunset, and integrated the sea and the sky into a dark blue, as silent as a black man praying silently in front of the Holy See. After a moment, I heard the cable sobbing from the tarpaulin at the stern of the ship. The low-pressure clouds with misty rain colors pushed the coastline as narrow as a lake. The shadows along the border could not tell whether it was a mountain or a cloud, but the traces of tears were all over the air and water.

it's autumn again! The sound of the rain, in its rapidity, has a faint smell, attached to a gloomy atmosphere, but whispered in my soul's ear: "Autumn"! I had no joy in my mind, and I couldn't resist the gentle infiltration, so I released Qiu Si accumulated in spring and summer, and combined with the foreign resentment at this time, giving birth to a weak baby-"sorrow".

it's already dark and the rain has stopped. However, the sobbing clouds are still loosely hanging in the sky, only showing some pale < P > light, which indicates that the bright moon has been dressed up and waiting for the opening. At the same time, the ship's smoke is suffocating in the wilderness, building a long bridge with python scales, which connects directly to the end of the western world, and contrasts with the first-class Cui Bo foam radiated by the ship, and misses the trace of the west.

In the northern sky, a bright and green star is eager to ask for information first, just like a maid-in-waiting of a newly married daughter-in-law, and she is also dressed up in

. But the bride still lingers.

When I was young, every mid-autumn night, I would just sit outside the window and watch the "Moonlight". If there are clouds in the sky, I

will worry about the "sparkling moon". If I see a fish-scale cloud, I will be happy with my care and pray silently that the moon will bloom soon, because I often hear that as long as there is a "corrugated" cloud, there will be a moonlight; But before the moonlight shone, my mother

had already forced me to go to bed, so Yuet Hua was just an unrealized imagination in my mind until now.

Now the sky is full of corrugated clouds, which suddenly aroused many interesting memories of my early years-but where is my pure childlike innocence now!

moonlight has a mysterious attraction. She can make the sea roar, she can make the sadness tide. The breath under the moon can gather into mountains, and the tears under the moon can cultivate a hundred acres of cymbidium and a thousand stems of purple Lin Geng. I suspect that sadness is inherited by human beings. < P > Otherwise, why do we often shed tears when we don't know the sadness for several years?

but I didn't cry tonight. It's not that there are no tears to shed, nor is it that civilized education has wiped out my purest instinct, but < P > because I feel the sacred sorrow, I am excited by my curiosity to understand and want to learn from Chegut Baden to dissect this mystery.