雨丝零零落落地从屋檐坠落,滴滴答答地敲击出初春的旋律,脑海中依稀记起童年的歌谣:“小燕子,穿花衣,年年春天来这里。我问燕子你为啥来?燕子说,这里的春天最美丽……”伴随着这熟悉的旋律,那一抹疾如闪电的黑影便从脑海中匆匆掠过。犹记得是这个世纪的伊始,我的童年在并不发达的乡村度过。明净的天空,笼罩着蔓至地平线的油绿田野。从村头到村尾,每家每户 Raindrops fell from the eaves and dribbled from the eaves, knocking out the melody of the early spring ticking. The memories of childhood were vaguely remembered in the mind: “The swallow, dressed in a flower suit, came here every spring. I asked the swallows for you. Swallow said that the spring here is the most beautiful...” With this familiar melody, the shadow of a lightning-fast lightning rushed through his mind. I still remember the beginning of this century. My childhood was spent in underdeveloped villages. The clear sky shrouded in the green fields that spread to the horizon. From village head to village tail, each household