那个寂寞的夏季,当坐在槐树的浓阴下,静静地读泰戈尔的《吉檀迦利》和纪伯伦的《先知》时,我根本没有想到,我的这些写在书边上的文字,会成为岁月淘尽一切所剩下的几枚书签。今天,它们静静地夹在我思想的履历里,竟然有着我意想不到的精致和质朴,让我惊讶中不禁怀疑起来,怀疑它们 In that lonely summer, while sitting under the shade of a banyan tree and quietly reading Tagore’s “Gitanjali” and Gibran’s “Prophets,” I did not even think of these words written on the edge of my book. , will become years to clean up all the remaining few bookmarks. Today, they are quietly trapped in the résumé of my thoughts. They have unexpected refinement and simplicity. I can’t help but wonder if I doubt them.