故乡白鹿原上一个春日的黄昏,湛蓝的天空长满云朵,山坡上的梯田像画家笔下绚丽的画卷,一层层碧绿的麦浪,一层层金黄的油菜花。夕阳西下,太阳像一枚蛋黄挂在远山顶上。那天是周末,我和妹妹站在原上向着山坡下翘首张望。落日的余晖将碧绿的麦田染成金色,将路旁一排排白杨树染成金色,将六岁的妹妹染成金色。她的眼睛黑亮亮的,清澈得如同春天的小溪,忽闪着的 The hometown of Bailuyuan on a spring evening, the blue sky covered with clouds, the terraces on the slopes of painters like brilliant picture scroll, layers of green Mai Lang, layers of golden rape. Setting sun, the sun is like an egg yolk hanging in the mountains. That day is the weekend, my sister and I stood on the original looked down toward the hillside. The twilight of the setting sun dyed the golden green wheat fields, dyed rows of poplar trees in the roadside, and dyed the six-year-old sister into gold. Her eyes were black and clear, like spring creek, suddenly flashing