这一场雨,把整个深圳轰然拉入了冰窖,朔风催促着行人更衣取暖。我坐在床头。听着窗外基坑里的桩机无趣的嘶吼,如粗糙的鼓声,伴随着这个城市的节拍日夜击打,不眠不休地刺激着这个城市的更迭。我知道它的作品,是这个城市拔地而起屹立于世间的根基;是岁月沉淀后掩埋在时光里的失眠者,它如行走于战场的先遣军,却又是坚守阵地的无谓勇者。它和它的作品,骄傲而伟大。有几分荡气回肠,却又有几许凄凄寂寞。我起身望着窗 This rain, the entire Shenzhen burst into the ice cellar, the North Wind urged pedestrians changing the warmth. I sat on the bed Listening to the boring screaming of the pile driver in the pit outside the window, such as the rough drum sound, accompanied by the beat of the city day and night, endless sleep to stimulate the change of the city. I know that its works are the foundation of this city standing erected in the world. It is an insomnia buried in time after years of sedimentation. It is like an advance army walking on the battlefield, but it is a meaningless brave man holding a position. It and its work, proud and great. A bit of sensual ileum, but how many desolate lonely. I stood up and looked out the window