他发现了我,望向我的眼睛既有感情却又深藏不露,很深的眼睛——我是如何清晰地还记得他婴儿时的水清见底的欢快眼睛啊。我递过一把为他预备的伞,被他拒绝。“这么小的雨。”他说。“会感冒,”我说。“不要。”他说。细细的飘雨濡湿了他的头发。我顿时失神;自己十七岁时,曾经多么强烈憎恶妈妈坚持递过来的雨伞。放晴后,我们沿着康河散步。徐志摩的康河,原来是这种小桥流水人家的河,蜿蜒无声地汨汨穿过芳草和 He found me and looked into my eyes both emotionally and deeply, deep-eyed - how I clearly remember the clear, cheerful eyes of his infant. I handed him an umbrella for him and was rejected by him. “It’s such a light rain.” He said. “Cold, ” I said. “No, ” he said. Thin rain wet his hair. I suddenly lost my mind; when I was seventeen years old, how abominable my mother insisted on handing the umbrella. After the clear, we walked along the river. Xu Kang’s Kang River, the original is the river of people such as bridges, meandering silently through the grass and