幽深的街巷空着,在非黑即白的直线之间,两盏红灯笼成为明亮之词。此时,风声小得近似无声,宁静里渗出苍老的滋味。欲语还休的天空,一场雨下或者不下,都没有关系;你看不见时光在此流转也没有关系;能够以温暖和光芒的姿态忽略自身,望眼欲穿的忧伤有没有细雨或丁香的陪伴,也没关系。此时,她们是骑着闪电却不愿远行的守候者,只因她们是那 Deep streets empty, between non-black and white straight lines, two red lanterns become bright words. At this point, the wind is small and almost silent, exudes the old taste of peace. It does not matter whether you can not see the time flowing here; you can ignore yourself with warmth and lightness, and there is no light rain or a clove companion ,does not matter. At this point, they are amenable to lightning but unwilling to move because they are there