后来香烟熏黄了你的手指;后来,指间的薄茧停留在了回忆;后来,当前尘变成往事,唯一不变的只有真情……那时的你高大严肃,那时的我幼小无知。你总是不苟言笑,总是板着一张脸,手指间夹着一根烟,坐在堂屋前看那些我怎么也看不懂的厚书,厚重到我拿着都会觉得吃力。 Later, cigarettes smoked yellow your fingers; later, the thin cocoon between the fingers stays in the memories; later, the current dust becomes the past, the only constant change of truth ... then you are tall and serious, then I am young and ignorant . You are always unsmiling. You always have a face with a cigarette in your fingers. Sitting in front of the house looks at the thick books I can not understand.