在人生的长河中，我们会因为无数的小事而触动，也许我们会在某一时间，某一地点，因为某些人身上不起眼的瞬间而感动。
In the long river of life, we will be touched by countless small things. Perhaps at a certain time and place, we will be moved by the inconspicuous moments on some people.
秋天总是一个伤感的季节，窗外的秋雨依然肆虐着原本所剩无几的树叶，树叶夹杂着雨水落到地上，任凭雨水的冲刷，原本青葱的叶片已经泛黄，在这个季节中，它也许只能化作春泥奉献自己了。雨渐渐停了，裸露的树枝下堆满了红与黄交错的叶子，置身于这样一片凄凉的景色中，不免有些伤感。
Autumn is always a sad season, and the autumn rain outside the window still ravages the few remaining leaves. The leaves are mixed with rainwater and fall to the ground, allowing the rain to wash away. The originally green leaves have turned yellow, and in this season, they may only turn into spring mud to dedicate themselves. The rain gradually stopped, and the exposed branches were piled with red and yellow leaves. Being in such a desolate scenery, one couldn't help but feel a bit sad.来自作文吧 zUOwENbA.net
秋天是离别的季节，走在路上，原本清凉的街道又开始陆续有了些人影。没过多久，店铺又开张了，向前张望，一排书店伫立在小坡的两旁，大多是些嘈杂小店，我挑了明净敞亮些的新华书店走了进去，相比以前的熙熙攘攘，店里现在已是冷清不少，大都是来避雨的，秋雨无常。
Autumn is the season of parting. Walking on the road, the once cool streets begin to see some people again. Not long after, the store opened again. Looking ahead, a row of bookstores stood on both sides of the small slope, mostly noisy small shops. I picked out the bright and open Xinhua Bookstore and walked in. Compared to the hustle and bustle before, the store was much quieter now, mostly to avoid the rain. Autumn rain is unpredictable.
我挑了一本书，沉浸于他人构思的奇妙世界中，窗外的雨轻柔的打在台阶上。了罢，出去透透气，打算回去。偶然间，看见两位老人，应是对夫妻，看着平凡极了，平凡的丢在人群中就找不着了。他们骑着辆老旧的脚踏三轮。我静看着，其中那位老奶奶将伞拿出，为爷爷撑上，那位爷爷脸上挂满了平凡又满足的笑容，回头望去，脸上的笑容更盛了，脸上的皱纹挤在了一块，随即吃力地踏着车。车子走着，听见奶奶说：“老头子，当年的你可不是这样的”，也许是受了刺激，爷爷像孩童般的生气，眼底的幸福却怎么也藏不住了，他使尽力气，将车子推上去，躲在店铺的屋檐下，奶奶将伞收起，从车里拿出茶杯，爷爷接过，他们互相望着，仿佛时间静止，过往都消散，只留那飘荡在空气中的幸福。奶奶撑开伞，爷爷继续踏着车。他们继续前行中，身影逐渐在风雨中消失。
I picked out a book and immersed myself in the wonderful world conceived by others, while the gentle rain outside the window hit the steps. Alright, go out for some fresh air and plan to go back. By chance, I saw two elderly people who were probably a couple. They looked extremely ordinary and could not be found in the crowd. They were riding an old pedal tricycle. I watched quietly as the old lady took out her umbrella and propped it up for her grandfather. His face was filled with an ordinary yet contented smile. Looking back, the smile on his face became even brighter, and the wrinkles on his face were squeezed together. He then struggled to step on the bike. As the car was walking, I heard my grandmother say, 'Old man, you weren't like that back then.' Perhaps stimulated, my grandfather was as angry as a child, but the happiness in his eyes couldn't be hidden. He tried his best to push the car up and hide under the eaves of the shop. My grandmother put away the umbrella and took out a teacup from the car. My grandfather took it and they looked at each other as if time had stood still and the past had dissipated, leaving only the happiness floating in the air. Grandma opened her umbrella, while Grandpa continued to ride on the bike. As they continued to move forward, their figures gradually disappeared in the wind and rain.
我揉了揉朦胧的眼睛，向外走去，有些感动。也许，只有在平凡中才能体会到那简单、平凡与纯真的幸福。也许做一个平凡的人也不错，平凡却不平庸。
I rubbed my hazy eyes and walked out, feeling a bit touched. Perhaps only in the ordinary can one experience the simple, ordinary, and pure happiness. Perhaps being an ordinary person is also good, ordinary but not mediocre.