中秋的月亮起得特别早,特别圆,也特别亮,我独自一人走在通往山顶的小路上,月光如水,静静地泻在花草与布满青苔的石阶上,薄江的青雾浮起在茂密的灌木丛中,世间的万物仿佛不真实地朦胧着,像笼着青纱的幼年时的梦。童年的梦,能想起来的已经不多了,唯一不变的就是这中秋,这月亮和我 The Moon of the Mid-Autumn Festival rose particularly early, especially round, and it was particularly bright. I walked alone on the small road leading to the top of the mountain. The moonlight was like water. I quietly blew on the grass and moss-covered stone steps. The thin river fog. Floating in the dense bushes, all things in the world seem to be unrealistic, like the dream of juvenile youth in cages. The dream of childhood, there is not much to think of, the only constant is this Mid-Autumn Festival, this moon and I