老人很老很老了,跟世上所有的老人一样,脸上沟壑纵横,雪白的胡子垂到脚背上。他的记忆也随着岁月的流逝随风而去,甚至忘记了自己是谁。我到底是谁呢?我的名字是什么?我昨天干了什么?明天又应该干些什么呢?每天早上睁开眼睛,老人都一遍一遍地问 The old man is very old and very old, like all the old people in the world, his face ravaged, white beard down to the instep. His memory also goes by the wind as time goes by, even forgetting who he is. Who am I? What is my name? What did I do yesterday? What should I do tomorrow? Every morning I opened my eyes and the old man asked again and again