那些日子,栅栏的几根木条被一些铁丝绑在一起,站在那里一动不动,沉默无语。它生不出叶子,长不出牵牛花。可是它可以围起来一个温暖,让春天爬到它的身上。风还凑过来说话。北风,一贯冷傲不羁,横冲直撞,某一天它突然温柔下来说悄悄话,说给栅栏听。我思想外面的那些栅栏,已经习惯了拒绝。拒绝不速之客,拒绝阿谀奉承和虚伪, In those days, a few strips of fence were tied together by some iron wire, stood there motionless, silent. It can not give birth to leaves, no morning glory. But it can be surrounded by a warm, spring climbed to it. The wind smiled and talked. Boreal wind, has always been proud proud uninhibited, rampage, one day it suddenly gentle whisper, said to the fence to listen. The fences outside my mind have become accustomed to refusing. Refused uninvited guests, rejected flattery and hypocrisy,