春天，光脚踏过惺忪的土地时，你不禁会感叹春的回归。
In spring, when you step on the bleary land, you cannot help but marvel at the return of spring.
秋天，碾过碎叶发出的吱吱声，你也许会惋惜春的归去。当所有人都在赞叹春时，我在想为什么秋会被人冷落？是它太静了吗，是它太碎了吗，还是它太寂寞了？
In autumn, the creaking sound of crushed leaves may make you regret the return of spring. When everyone is admiring spring, I wonder why autumn is being neglected? Is it too quiet, too broken, or too lonely?
也许都是，也许都不是。
Maybe both, maybe none.
晚秋时节去了一个公园，那里杂草丛生，只有几只木马、几架秋千和一支跷跷板插在荒芜的野草中，和谐又荒谬地发出了隐隐的窸窣声，像是在感叹被岁月尘埋的惋惜。轻风徐徐吹过，用她淡柔的唇间吻过在木缝里久存的尘埃，晨光熹微，从嶕峣的树间来到地面，烙印下一圈淡淡的痕迹。我漫无目的地走入一条小径，两旁的树稀疏地并在一起，个个头顶一层墨绿，也有的满头褐黄，平静地等待。我随手拾起一片，那是一片干枯得蜷曲起来的落叶，它不是刚落下的褐黄，而是久经沧桑的深褐色，像是已经在锅中煎得没有一丝水分的窒息。这枚枯叶恰似一只蝉壳，生脆地卧在我微微合起的手心，只需轻轻一握，它就可以灰飞烟灭。我仿佛看到了岁月斑驳的痕迹。人活着也许是为了死去，白马过隙，往事如烟，阴差阳错中我们早已各奔东西。死去也许是开始，新生也遂为过去。龙应台说：“所有的生离死别都发生在一个码头上，上了船，就是一生……”来自作文吧 zUOwENbA.net
In the late autumn season, I went to a park where there were overgrown weeds. Only a few wooden horses, swings, and a seesaw were inserted into the barren grass, harmoniously and absurdly making a faint rustling sound, as if lamenting the regret of being buried by the dust of time. The gentle breeze blew gently, kissing the dust that had been sitting in the crevices of the wood with her soft lips. The morning light was dim, coming from the trees on the mountainside to the ground, leaving a faint mark. I walked aimlessly into a path, with sparse trees on both sides, each with a layer of dark green on their heads, and some with brown and yellow all over their heads, calmly waiting. I picked up a leaf casually, it was a withered and curled up fallen leaf. It was not just a newly fallen brown yellow, but a deep brown that had been weathered for a long time, as if it had been boiled in a pot without any moisture, suffocating. This withered leaf is like a cicada shell, lying crisply in my slightly closed palm. With just a gentle grip, it can disappear into thin air. I seem to see the mottled traces of time. Living may be for the sake of death, but the white horse passes by, and the past is like smoke. By chance, we have already gone our separate ways. Death may be the beginning, but rebirth is also the past. Long Yingtai said, "; All separations and deaths happen on one dock, getting on a ship is a lifetime; … ”
人生这条路，就像秋天逐渐枯黄的落叶，走到头，大家都一样，为什么不选择落叶归根呢？秋天宛如一位经历了无数风霜的老人，他安静地盘坐在檐下，隆重地收拾好一切的支离破碎，留守他的沉默。
The path of life is like autumn leaves gradually turning yellow. When we reach the end, everyone is the same. Why not choose to return to their roots after the fallen leaves? Autumn is like an old man who has experienced countless storms and frosts. He sits quietly under the eaves, solemnly tidying up all the broken pieces and leaving behind his silence.
数日前，我的姑婆离开了人世，我才意识到人生是有多么短暂。我们用尽一生去追赶去拼搏，却终为土灰。人的一生是短暂的，但如果卑劣地过一生，可就太长了。一辈子就如一整个秋季，从开始到离去，从风华正茂到垂垂老矣，不过是一个时节。天堂将收留人的躯体，人间却保存人的灵魂。落叶归根的离愁是秋天对我们最慷憾的宽容。这世上所有的暂别，都可能成为永别，每一个相逢的当下，都是最美好的花好月圆，请好好珍惜。
A few days ago, my aunt passed away, and I realized how short life is. We spend our whole lives chasing and striving, but we end up in dust. A person's life is short, but if they live their life in a despicable way, it is too long. A lifetime is like an entire autumn, from the beginning to the end, from flourishing to old age, it's just a season. Heaven takes in people's bodies, while the world preserves their souls. The sorrow of falling leaves returning to their roots is the most regretful tolerance of autumn towards us. All temporary farewells in this world can become eternal farewells. Every moment we meet is the most beautiful moment of blooming flowers and a full moon. Please cherish it.
秋日胜春潮，胜在它的沉默，胜在它能平静地去面对。它不如春日的蓬勃，却比春更有野心。静者，得世也；惜秋者，方能决眦得深懿也。古今往来，多少人认为秋是悲凉的，但我不这么认为，秋天是承接历史悬河的使者，它沉稳冷静地接轨，再大笔一挥，豪迈地为人世间带去一抹金霄。它不在乎自己是否辉煌，只是平静地化作土灰，滋养生灵。它来时带来满是金黄的慷憾，它离去却不忍带去一片云彩。
Autumn triumphs over spring tide, triumphs over its silence, triumphs over its ability to face it calmly. It is not as vigorous as spring, but more ambitious than spring. Those who remain calm gain the world; Only those who cherish autumn can have a deep sense of righteousness. Throughout history, many people believe that autumn is desolate, but I don't think so. Autumn is the messenger who carries on the river of history, calmly and steadily connecting with the world. With a stroke of the pen, it boldly brings a touch of golden sky to the world. It doesn't care whether it is brilliant or not, it just calmly turns into dust and nourishes living beings. When it comes, it brings a golden regret, but when it leaves, it cannot bear to bring a cloud with it.
我言秋日胜春朝，朝朝沐雨尽碧霄，霄上谩有天人语，语出秋来何萧条？
I say autumn is better than spring, the morning is bathed in rain and the blue sky is clear. The sky is filled with the words of the heavens, and I wonder why autumn is so bleak?