那一年夏天,我来到这儿,就在这儿遇到了海子。那个少年。坐在海边,握着一罐可乐,面对着远方,海的另一边。少年看见我,他站起来,拍了拍沙子说:“你从哪来?”我告诉他:“北京。”“你能告诉我你的姓名吗?”我追问道。少年说:“海子,叫我海子吧。我自己起的。我喜欢海,也喜欢海子。我想当诗人呢。”“你多大?”我问。“十四岁。”“那么和我一样。你在上几年级?”我随 That summer, I came here, met Haizi here. That boy. Sitting by the sea, holding a can of coke, facing the distance, the other side of the sea. When the teenager saw me, he stood up and patted the sand and said: “Where are you from?” I told him: “Can you tell me your name?” I asked. Junior said: “Haizi, call me Haizi it.I play by myself.I like the sea, but also like Haizi.I want to be a poet. ” “How old are you?” I asked. “Fourteen. ” “Then like me.You are in the upper grades? ” I follow