四十一度灰
A Fox, just at the time of the vintage, stole into a vine-yard where the ripe sunny Grapes were trellised up on high in most tempting show. He made many a spring and a jump after the luscious prize, but, failing in all his attempts, he muttered as he retreated："Well what does it matter! The Grapes are sour!"
梧桐无羽
Another year grape harvest season, our whole family to do cheerfully.Came to the orchard, the countryside is all in a couple of the vine. Colorful grapes of hanging in the branches, scrambling to welcome our arrival. Blackened, purple, like a blow to burst; Like agate red; Green, glittering and translucent get rid of stone like emeralds. Round grape crammed together, like so many brothers and sisters love each other, regardless of you and me. Like to see them close, I had to pick.
