脸多少年后,你已经不在人世,假如我还活着,我要去你生活过的院子里,探寻你停留的影迹。在树下、在摇椅上、在衣柜前、在书架边,我会久久伫立,感受你当年的气息:空气里残留的咳嗽声,始终没有消费完的梦境,窗台上晾晒的旧皮鞋,阅读了一半的诗集,不再滴水的筷子,压在屋檐上的薄雪……我会把你吸过的尚未腐烂的烟头捡起来,把你的破围巾包起来,把你的蜂蜜罐存放起来。可能那时我已无法走路,只能坐在轮椅上,用你喝过 Face how many years, you are dead, if I am alive, I want to go to the yard you live, to explore the shadow of your stay. Under the tree, in the rocking chair, in the front of the wardrobe, on the bookshelves, I will stand for a long time and feel the breath of your time: the coughing sound in the air, the unfinished consumption of dreams, the old leather shoes on the ledge, the reading Half the collection of poems, chopsticks no longer dripping, and thin snow pressing on the eaves ... I will pick up the yet-to-be-rotten butts you have sucked, wrap your broken scarves and store your honey pots. Maybe then I can not walk, can only sit in a wheelchair, drink with you