坐在拉萨街边的小店里,将碗里最后一口豆浆喝了下去后,我看了看表,时间还早,就连大街都是静悄悄的。太阳虽是早已将它的耀眼光芒投向了这个城市的每一个角落,但拉萨仍未醒来,这里失们已习惯于将自己的就像这里与内地的海拔高差一样,这是天经地义的,但拉萨仍未醒来,这里的人们习惯于将自己的尽管喝完这口豆浆,我就要离开这个城市。 Sit in the streets of Lhasa shop, the last bowl of milk drink down, I looked at the table, the time is still early, even the streets are quiet. Although the sun has long invested its dazzling light in every corner of the city, Lhasa has not yet woken up. It is perfectly justified here that the losers have become accustomed to treating themselves like the elevation difference here with the Mainland Lhasa has not yet woke up, people here are accustomed to their own though to drink this soy milk, I will leave the city.