雨很小,无法将一把夜的油纸伞打湿。夜显得很空寂,就如一些碎词,零零星星地散落无处。乘一辆夜行火车,我不知要行归何处。那么多的旧日子在纠结着我,与我空悬的忧伤混搭在一起,我无法摆脱世俗的伤害。春雨是暗夜的统治者,正涨满我体内的河流。事实上,我已然丢失了生活的钥匙,只能蹲守在夜的走廊尽头,聆听一滴滴雨铺天盖地砸疼我漫无边际的草原。再次提到白玉兰花风,雨,花瓣,全都堆在春天的城垛。而我,却躲在垛口独自眺望和伤感。 Rain is very small, can not be a night of paper umbrella wet. Night seems very empty, just as some fragments, sporadic scattered nowhere. By a night train, I do not know where to go. So many old days tangled me, mixed with my vacant sadness, I can not get rid of secular harm. Spring rain is the night’s ruler, is full of my body’s river. In fact, I’ve lost the key to my life, and I can only squat at the end of the corridor in the night, listening to the dripping rain that hit my boundless steppe. Again mentioning the Magnolia blossoms, rain, petals, all piled in the battlements of spring. I, however, hide in the crenellated view alone and sad.