我想回到过去。但我知道,闪现在记忆中跳皮筋的女孩,在东街日益古老的平房下,以及从菜市场提着菜蓝回来的主妇们永远唠叨的声音,一起被附在斑驳墙面上名叫岁月的东西埋没时,一切都已迟了。 I want to go back to the past. But I know that the girls who are now playing with the rubber bands in the memory are attached to the mottled wall under the ever-increasing old houses on the East Street and the voices of the housewives who brought them back from the vegetable market with their blue dishes. When things are buried, everything is late.