Calling all Chinese/ English experts: What do you think of my translation? Have I got this right?

最耐得寂寞的， 是冬天的山，The loneliest is the mountain in winter. 褪了红，褪了绿，The reds have faded and so are the greens. 清清奇奇的瘦，像是从皇宫里走到民间的女子，或许是沦落了，Like some slyph-like imperial beauty, whether cast out of the palace or lost her favoured status, 却还原了本来的面目 still her former glory retained。石头裸裸的显露，依稀在草木之间。Rocks, sparse and nakedly; exposed amid the still around greenery. 草木并没有催折，Not all the boughs had been hurriedly broken.  枯死的是软弱，枝柯僵硬，The weaker ones -- stiff and dead. 风里在铜韵一般的颤响。The coppery tones of the wind in tremble. 冬天是骨的季节吗？是力的季节吗？ So; is winter, the season of moral strength or one of puissance?

　　三个月的企望，Three months of longing, 一轮嫩嫩的太阳在头顶上出现了。 One tender sun rising from the peak.
　　风开始暖暖的吹，The wind began to blow in warmth. 其实那不应该算作风，Actually can't call it the wind 是气，but breath -- 肉眼儿眯着，是丝丝缕缕的捉不住拉不直的模样。wispy strands that only the squinted mortals eyes can catch石头似乎要发酥呢，The rocks -- silky they seemed and 菊花般的苔藓亮了许多。the moss by the chrysanthenmums looked greener.说不定在生产时候满山竟有了一层绿气，Who knows? By the time of rebirth, a mist of green would cover the entire mountain. 但细察每一根草，每一枝柯，却又绝对没有。On a closer look, nary a blade of grass nor a bough of green.  

两只鹿，Two deer, 一只有角的和一只初生的，One horned. One a calfling 初生的在试验腿力，testing its legs.一跑，On the spurt, 跑在一片新开垦的田地上，to the newly cleared field it went. 清新的气息使它撑了四蹄，Arrested by the freshness of the field, 呆呆的，its four legs stretched in idle bewilderment. 然后一声锐叫，寻它的父亲的时候，Then a cry for its sire came 满山树的枝柯，but the mountainful of branches; 使它分不清哪一丛是老鹿的角 causing it unable to distinguish which are the antlers of its sire.

The most unbearable loneliness is wintertime on the mountain. Faded reds and greens, quaint and elegantly thin, just like a woman amongst the people emerging from the palace. She was come down into the world or she had already come down into the world but she seemed unaffected by this. The bare rock became clear, faintly visible amongst the grass and trees. The grass and trees hadn’t been displaced by the rock. The withered ones are weak and their branches stiff. The wind is in the general quiver of copper. Is winter the month of ghosts? Is it the season of power?
Three months of hope, the first stage of sunlight emerged at the top of the peak.
The warm air from the wind, actually shouldn’t count as wind but as air. Squinting with the naked eye it is like a silky thread that you can’t pull tight. The rock appears crispy and the moss on the chrysanthemum boat shines a lot. It is hard to tell when, the mountain had a layer of green air, but when you look carefully at every piece of grass, every branch there is nothing there. There are two deer; one has a horn and one is newly born. The newborn is trying to use its legs, running around into the newly opening up fields. On all fours, the pure fresh air makes startles him. Then he lets out a sharp cry to find his father but the branches on the mountain trees makes it hard for him to distinguish which are his fathers horns.

Calling all Chinese/ English experts: What do you think of my translation? Have I got this right?

最耐得寂寞的，是冬天的山，褪了红，褪了绿，清清奇奇的瘦，像是从皇宫里走到民间的女子，或许是沦落了，却还原了本来的面目。石头裸露出一角，依稀在草木之间。草木并没有催折，枯死的是软弱，枝柯僵硬，在风里铜韵一般地l响。冬天是骨的季节吗？是力的季节吗？

　　经过三个月的企望，一轮嫩嫩的太阳终于在头顶上出现了。
　　风开始暖暖的吹，其实那不应该算作风，是气，它的肉眼儿眯着，是丝丝缕缕的捉不住拉不直的模样。石头似乎要发酥呢，菊花般的苔藓亮了许多。似乎它来时，满山竟有了一层绿气，但细察每一根草，每一枝柯，却又绝对没有。两只鹿，一只有角的和一只初生的，初生的在试验腿力，一跑，跑在一片新开垦的田地上，清新的气息使它撑了四蹄，呆呆的，突然一声锐叫，寻它的父亲的时候，满山树的枝柯，使它分不清哪一丛是老鹿的角

The most unbearable loneliness is wintertime on the mountain. Faded reds and greens, quaint and elegantly thin, just like a woman amongst the people emerging from the palace. She was come down into the world or she had already come down into the world but she seemed unaffected by this. The bare rock became clear, faintly visible amongst the grass and trees. The grass and trees hadn’t been displaced by the rock. The withered ones are weak and their branches stiff. The wind is in the general quiver of copper. Is winter the month of ghosts? Is it the season of power?
Three months of hope, the first stage of sunlight emerged at the top of the peak.
The warm air from the wind, actually shouldn’t count as wind but as air. Squinting with the naked eye it is like a silky thread that you can’t pull tight. The rock appears crispy and the moss on the chrysanthemum boat shines a lot. It is hard to tell when, the mountain had a layer of green air, but when you look carefully at every piece of grass, every branch there is nothing there. There are two deer; one has a horn and one is newly born. The newborn is trying to use its legs, running around into the newly opening up fields. On all fours, the pure fresh air makes startles him. Then he lets out a sharp cry to find his father but the branches on the mountain trees makes it hard for him to distinguish which are his fathers horns.