天阴着,连一丝云的点缀也全无,只是苍苍地、平淡无奇地泛着白光。游人的喧嚣浪头般扑向岸头的铜壁画,却不理睬,大概睡着了罢。秦淮河竟变了吗?他纳着闷,细细推敲而得不出所以然。也罢,几十年了,自从当年那一道海峡落断身后,自己就成了另一个世界的人。可究竟哪儿变了,怎么变的?他糊涂了。钟淮确乎老了。他的反应再不如昔年的敏锐,思考举动都缓慢、迟滞。风吹过,发丝在耳际微微扬起,竟变得像芦 Overcast day, even a trace of the cloud of embellishment, but nothing, just plain, glowing white lightly. The hustle and bustle of tourists waved toward the shore of the copper murals, but ignored, probably asleep strike. Qinhuai actually changed it? He satisfied boring, careful scrutiny and not come out why. It is also worth mentioning that for decades, since that time, the strait fell behind and became himself another world. Where did it change? How did he change? He was confused. Zhong Huai indeed old. His reaction is no longer as sensitive as the previous years, thinking slow move, lag. Wind blows, the hair slightly raised in the ears, actually become like a reed