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我放松马缰,由着马儿低头缓行。道路两旁古木参天,时有荆棘留人,大树的枝枝丫丫又在头顶争夺领空,一层一层地压下来,把个春天的晨色也挤得只剩下条条缕缕。在这条颇为阴森的驿道上,慢说马儿不愿疾行,就连人也觉心内生寒,不由得提高警惕。前头人声渐稠,只见绿树中耸出一盏天灯,现在黑夜已经过去,顶端的油灯也已熄灭,由着7米多高的木柱把它撑在半空中。再入眼便是一片青砖黑瓦,屋上祥云流动,袅娜有姿,无形中透出股瑞气。哦,张谷英村到了……———我想象着自己在100年前的清朝末年就这样接近了张谷英村。
I relax the horse, bowed down by the horse. On both sides of the road towering old trees, there are thorns to keep people, the branches of the tree Yaya and fight for airspace overhead, layer by layer to press down, the spring morning color also squeezed only the rules. In this very dark post road, slowly said that the horse does not want to go bad, and even people feel cold heart, could not help but be vigilant. The front of the human voice is getting thick, I saw a green light towering a day light, and now the night has passed, the top of the oil lamp has been extinguished, by a 7-meter-high wooden pillar to hold it in the air. Re-entry is a dark brick black tiles, clouds flow on the house, graceful poses, invaded shares of Swiss gas. Oh, Zhang Guying village to ... ... --- I imagine myself in the Qing Dynasty 100 years ago so close to Zhang Guying village.