陈浪是出版人,说起来应是我前后脚的同事。他在诗中说,“今晚,迟归的我/站在出版大厦十三楼/望着窗外的万家灯火/听隆隆车啸,不禁/一阵怅然,一阵沉默//不远处的那个小区/有我的居所,冬暖夏凉/但此刻它一定黑着/是喧闹中的一隅安静/等着与我团聚”(《天黑了》)。读着这诗句,心头突然一酸,蓦地记起那些做出版的日子,就像陈浪这样,守着人去楼空的十三楼,眺望满 Chen Lang is the publisher, speaking of my colleagues in front and behind. He said in the poem, “tonight, late for me / on the thirteenth floor of the publishing house / looking out the window Wanjia Denghuo / hear rumbling rumble, can not help but a while a sense of silence, a while silent That district / with my home, warm in summer and cool in summer, but at the moment it must be black / quiet noisy / waiting to be reunited with me ”(“ dark ”). Reading this poem, my heart suddenly a sour, I remembered those who make the publication of the day, like Chen Lang, guarding people to the empty floor of the 13th floor, overlooking the full