傍晚的东江,凉风习习,余霞成绮,别有诗意。江边的长凳上有一位七十多岁的老人,他每天都坐在那里,一个人,静静地看着远处的南桥。不经意间回首,发现夕阳将老人的影子拉得很长。老人一直坐着,他有点驼背,银白色的发丝在夕阳的辉映下格外耀眼。夏天的夜总是姗姗来迟,路人渐渐少了,老人还是目不转睛地望着南桥的方向。或许,是那车水 Dongjiang in the evening, cool breeze, Yu Xia Cheng Qi, do not have poetic. There was a seventy-year-old man on the waterfront bench, where he sat every day, alone, quietly watching the South Bridge in the distance. Inadvertently look back and found that the sunset will pull the shadow of the elderly very long. The old man has been sitting, he is a bit humpback, silvery white hair in the setting sun is particularly dazzling. Summer night is always late, passers-by gradually less, the old man still intently looking Southbridge direction. Perhaps that is the car water