寒山,古寺。我同好友来时,是个午后,阳光温软慵懒。曳曳竹林掩映中,灰黄的土墙,暗沉的红瓦,檐牙高啄的,那是古寺云雾。前有云一阁,后是云雾禅寺。禅寺前,雕刻着不知名古纹的黑色香炉升腾着袅袅烟雾,两边各排红烛狭长的黄焰颤抖在风中,任凭烛台落满蜡泪。黑木的镂门,红漆的圆柱前,清秀的小和尚着灰袍坐在阶上,温慈的老和尚着黄衫立在柱旁。静 Hanshan, ancient temple. When I came with my friend, it was an afternoon, the sun was soft and lazy. Trailing bamboo shade, gray walls, dark red tiles, eaves teeth high pecking, it is the ancient temple clouds. Before a cloud Court, after the cloud temple fog. In front of the monastery, carved with an unknown ancient pattern of black incense burner rising curl smoke, flames on both sides of the long row of yellow candle shaking in the wind, despite the candlestick covered with wax tears. Black wood door, red paint the front of the cylinder, a handsome young monk with a gray robe sat on the stage, warm old monk with a yellow shirt standing next to the column. Static