这是冬天黄昏的六点钟。稀疏、肮脏的雨丝在一盏盏点亮的街灯前洒落飘散。被照亮的便道显得又长又黄。一些还算年轻的人从办公室里出来,冒着廷骨的寒风匆匆忙忙朝家里走去,他们穿着咯吱咯吱响的高统雨靴,雨衣的领子竖着,一顶顶圆顶礼帽和软毡帽都在淌眼泪—— “晚上好,马西先生。” “跟我一路走吗,查理?” “喔,今儿个晚上天气真够呛!” “再见,斯温先生。”—— This is winter at six o’clock. Sparse, dirty rain drifts in front of a lighted street lamp. The illuminated sidewalk looks long and yellow. Some fairly young men came out of the office, hurried toward the house in the cold breezing of the bones, wearing creaky high rain boots, raincoat collars, a dome bowler hat and a soft Felt hat dripping tears - “Good night, Mr. Massey.” “Follow me, Charlie?” “Oh, tonight, the weather really choke!” “Goodbye, Sri Lanka Mr. Wen. ”-