他站在那里,如同一株云雾缭绕下的山涧古松。也许这就是古人思忖时惯用的姿态吧,至少在我的梦中,他总是如此伟岸地伫立在日月星辰的交替中。狂风吹肿了他的眼睛,暴雨淋湿了他的衣衫,他整日整夜地踟蹰在河岸,眼里似乎映照着另一个人的身影。 He stood there, like a haze of ancient pines lingering under the clouds. Maybe this is the attitude traditionally used by the ancients. At least in my dreams, he always stood in such an awe-inspiring manner. The wind swelled his eyes, and the torrential rain drenched his clothes. He froze all day and night on the banks of the river, and his eyes seemed to reflect the figure of another man.