一段旅程,年少的我们,成长在路上。时光也许真的就是一件来得太过匆匆的礼物,在我们迟疑着要不要收下来时,它早已穿过阴霾,飞到云的另一端。像极了一阵风。有谁会记得,在青春的这页宣纸上,你我初时提笔摆弄的样子。后来,我们总是一不留神,滴下几滴墨汁,看着它慢慢晕开,却又无力去掩盖。我是被叶子上反射的光弄醒的,眼前已是另一番景象。望着敞亮起来的天空,我的心情不知从哪一刻开始变得单一,但总是找不到适当的词去形容。 A journey, young, we grow on the road. Time may indeed have been a hurried gift, and when we hesitated to accept it, it had passed through the haze and flew to the other end of the cloud. Like a gust of wind Who will remember that on the page of youth, on the rice paper, you and I first picked up the brush and look. Later, we always inadvertently, dropping a few drops of ink, watching it slowly dizzy, but unable to cover up. I was awakened by the light reflected on the leaves, and it was already a different sight. Looking at the bright sky, I do not know where it started to become a single, but always can not find the appropriate words to describe.