一遍又一遍的默写、无数个灯火通明的夜晚、一刻都不停歇的一个月换来的却是一个冰冷的分数。对于早已经安排好的暑假北欧之行,我也没有了那份期待,在脑中久久盘旋不去的唯有那个鲜红刺目的数字。天阴沉沉的,气压低得让人透不过气。乌云黑沉沉地压下来,树上的叶子也乱哄哄地摇摆着。在挪威著名的峡谷外,雨终于还是落下了。雨水冲刷着车窗,成串的雨珠不断坠落,仿佛一副悲伤的挽联。天空迷蒙得像是一幅水墨丹青,那浓重的氤氲变成心头真切的悲痛。天公也不作美,这美景看来是看不成了。 Over and over again, the silent copy, countless brightly lit night, a month non-stop in exchange for a cold score. For the summer vacation already arranged for the Nordic trip, I have no expectation, in the brain for a long time not the only bright red and thorny numbers. Gloomy, low pressure breathless. Dark clouds dark down, the leaves of the tree is also rocking chaos. Outside the famous Norwegian canyon, the rain finally fell. Rain washed the window, falling raindrops, like a sad elegiac couplet. The sky fans like an ink Danqing, that thick 氤 氲 into my heart really sad. God is not beauty, this beauty seems to be underappreciated.