题不在多,难必将灵;分不在高,及格就行。待到考试,如箭穿心。班人皆过九十,独我六十挂零。最恨乃发榜时,四顾不见排名。重做并无勇气,订正不知原因。窗外山头,残阳如血;窗内试卷,一片红叉,似欲染红衣!寒窗八年,无成就之鼓舞,无满分之慰藉,下至小测、上至期末,毁我一世英名。每谈至此,仰天叹息!曾尝努力,无力继续。 No more questions, it is difficult to be spiritual; points are not high, pass on the line. Wait for the exam, such as arrows through the heart. The class people are over ninety, I alone sixty zero. The most hated is the list, looked around but not ranked. Redo did not have the courage to correct for no reason. Windows outside the mountain, the sun remains as the blood; window papers, a red fork, like to dye the red! Window of the cold for eight years, no encouragement of achievement, no gratifying to borrow, down to the small test, to the end, destroy I world name. Every conversation so far, sigh! Have tried hard, unable to continue.