像是一种游离,光线蔓延过细碎的刘海。脸上有斑驳的光影,是一个孩子,站在黄昏的背后。记得泰戈尔说过,那些背着灯的人,他们的影子投到前面。她站在黄昏的背后,细长细长的影子映在地上晃动成单薄。她像是一直在踽踽独行,疼痛到了麻木。 It’s like a loose, light-sprayed bang. There is mottled light and shadow on the face, a child standing behind the sunset. I remember Tagore saying that the shadows of those who wore lights were ahead. She stood at the back of dusk, slender and slender shadows reflected on the floor and became thin. She seemed to be walking alone, and her pain was numb.