一个神秘的破挎包天快黑时,加拿大诗人罗宾光临了撒娇诗院。晚餐时,罗宾夸我斟上的白酒像一朵朵白色的火焰,窜入他的喉管,在他的胃里燃烧。罗宾的脸长得不东不西,奇奇怪怪。坐在他的对面,我一边夹菜送嘴里,一边不停地在心里犯嘀咕。罗宾告诉我,他妈妈是苏格兰的移民,爸爸是印度旁遮普的移民。怪不得,典型的杂种脸啊。弟弟找了一个中国媳妇,特别贤惠,令他羡慕。所以,他这次来了中国,立志找一个与弟媳妇可以媲美的中国太太。 A mysterious bag when the sky is dark, the Canadian poet Robin came to a petite poetry court. At dinner, Robin boast the liquor I poured on like a blossoming white flame, fleeing into his throat and burning in his stomach. Robin’s face looks long, weird. Sit on the opposite side of him, I grabbed the mouth to send vegetables, while kept whispered in my heart. Robin told me that his mother is a Scottish immigrant and her father is an Indian Punjabi immigrant. No wonder, typical hybrid face ah. His younger brother found a Chinese wife, especially virtuous, so he envy. Therefore, he came to China this time and is determined to find a Chinese wife comparable to his sister-in-law.