那天因留下来排练外语节的短剧,我回家很晚。这次我们班演出英语版《甄嬛传》的经典段落,大家都很看好,一路上我口中还念念有词。夜风渐起,树叶与灯影开始摇曳。隐隐听到巷子里传来一种奇异的曲调,与叶声灯影此起彼落,一呼一应。这条行人寥落的巷子里,有个人坐在前面丁字路口拉琴。晚上九点多了,而且又不是在地铁口,还有什么人会听他的啊?我摸了摸口袋,还有几枚硬币,便慢步走近。他唱的是街头艺人好像 The day I left for a rehearsal of a foreign language festival, I came home very late. This time our class performed the English version of “Zhen Huan Chuan,” the classic passage, everyone is very optimistic, along the way I still remembered. The night wind is rising, the leaves and lights begin to sway. Faint heard a strange alley came the melody, and the sound of leaves and leaves one after another, a call should be. In this deserted alley with pedestrians, there is an individual sitting in front of the T-junction of the violins. More than nine o’clock in the evening, and not at the mouth of the subway, what other people would listen to him? I touched the pocket, there are a few coins, they walked slowly. He sings like a street artist