德里印象远看德里,哪怕是隔一段屈指可数的时日。在时间里的回望总是远得很有深意。我看见那群乌鸦在飞,以那天寂寥的、漫无边际的姿势,掠过德里禇红色的楼顶与塔尖。典籍纷乱。一些足音流转于贝叶之上。那侵蚀着被侵蚀的,那似乎留下但又无以攥住的,成为敲打于心的经语。那天我抵达德里已是深夜,被一辆笑里 Delhi’s impression of Delhi in the distance, even if it is a handful of time. Looking back in time always far meaning. I saw the crows flying in the lonely, infinity position of that day, passing over Delhi’s red roofs and spiers. Classics chaos. Some footsteps flow over the bayeux. That erodes the eroded, that seems to be left but not clutched, becomes the heartbeat scripture. It was late at night when I arrived in Delhi and was smiled