一个人,端坐在寂寂的唐朝,钓着一江的寒冷,守候着最后的一片洁白的孤独。捧读时隔千年的诗篇,感受着从千年前的永州吹来的寒风。我意外,甚而惊悚。群山孤寂,将想象截成了一重又一重。雪白的驼峰圈画着生命 One person, sitting in the lonely Tang Dynasty, caught the coldness of a river, waiting for the last piece of pure white loneliness. After a thousand years of poetry, I felt the cold wind from Yongzhou, which was thousands of years ago. I was surprised and even horrified. Lonely mountains, cut the imagination into one heavy weight. The white hump circle draws life