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坐在河的尽头,那位老人,在沉思夜晚来临了,手中的烟头点燃着雾霭终于西天的云霞暗了下去,深灰色的水流几乎和夜色融为一体。凝望着,那位老人坐在河的尽头。他是谁,他在思索着什么?也许这是三十年后的我。也许他会想起
Sitting at the end of the river, the old man, meditating at night, the hands of the cigarette lit the haze Finally, the dark clouds of the sky down, the dark gray water almost melted into the night. Staring, the old man sat at the end of the river. Who is he, what is he thinking? Perhaps this is me thirty years later. Maybe he will think