回家旧事如梦,也早就像梦一样逝去了。这么些年来,我很少回顾,甚至刻意忘记。说起上世纪八十年代,有人说,掉下两片树叶,就会砸到一个诗人的脑袋。不管正常不正常,那时几乎遍地诗人。这当然比再早些日子,随处可见身着绿军装的红卫兵更接近一个伟大的年代。我在那个年代,凑巧写诗。其实也不完全是凑巧,那个年代,凡有理想的青年,谁不写几句诗呢?舍此也无以施展你的理想与才华。 Home dreams, but also long gone as a dream. Over the years, I rarely review, or even deliberately forgotten. Speaking of the eighties of last century, some people say, fall two leaves, it will hit a poet’s head. No matter normal or abnormal, then almost everywhere poet. This is certainly closer to a great era than the earlier days when the Red Guards dressed in green uniforms are everywhere. At that time, I happened to write poetry. In fact, it is not entirely a coincidence that those who did not write a few poems in those days who had ideal young people would not be able to exert your ideals and talents.