“当我们都老了”这是叶芝的诗句,这也是我在多年之后一个充溢着温暖阳光的午后,偶然读到的,在轻薄的纸上,我仿佛读懂了世界上纯粹而永恒的两个字:岁月。随之而来的,则是无尽的距离与等待,犹如绿烟似的藤葛,慢 “When we are all old,” this is Yeats’s verse. This was something I accidentally read after many years of warm afternoons. On thin and light paper, I seemed to read the world purely. The eternal two words: years. With it, there is endless distance and waiting, like green smoke, slow