边关的哨所,静静地耸立在延绵万里的边境线上,一轮明月高高地挂在哨所的塔楼上,洒下一片淡淡的月光。昨夜飘落的雪花,给大地披上了薄薄的银装。草原白色的雪原在月光的映衬下,装扮成了一幅银色的画卷。在这没有一丝杂乱的画卷上,显得那么安静,安静得好似能听到家人在火炉旁的对话。战士都已进入了梦乡,迎着月光,露出带着微笑的脸庞,我知道他们一定是梦见了家乡的月亮。我独自走到那棵早已被秋风吹落了绿叶的白杨旁,手拉着随风 Border posts, quietly towering in the stretches of miles of border line, a bright moon hanging in the post tower, shed a faint moonlight. Snow falling last night, to the earth covered with a thin silver. Prairie white snow in the moonlight against the background, dressed as a silver picture. It was as quiet and quiet as it could be to hear the family conversations by the fire on the scrolls without any mess. Warriors have entered the dream, facing the moonlight, exposing a smiling face, I know they must have dreamed of the moon in his hometown. I walked alone to the tree has long been blown off the green leaves by the poplar, hand drawn with the wind