又是一个凄冷的夜晚,我独自坐在窗前,窗外那片黑暗予人一丝莫名的伤感,层层乌云锁不住那一轮弯月,静静地躺着,也静静地照着,无言中,自令人愁绪渐生。我又想起了那句“无言独上西楼,月如钩”中的淡淡愁思。愁是什么?年少的我们或许无法理解,它虚无缥缈,无处不在,无法用语言形容。但在他心中,愁显得那样凝重,又那样平常,愁也许“剪不 It is a cold night, I sat alone in front of the window, the dark piece of the window to the inexplicable sadness, layers of clouds can not lock the round of meniscus, quietly lying, but also quietly according to, Silent, self-depressing. I remembered the phrase ”Silent West on the West Wing, Moon as the hook " in the light of the sadness. Worry is what? Young we may not understand, it is nihilistic, ubiquitous, can not be described in words. But in his heart, worry seems so dignified, so common, worry may not cut