在一个空气凝结的夜晚,我把泰戈尔笔下的“我”定格为他,因为他流淌的字迹总是蕴藏了“所有的忧伤与疑虑”,因为他始终在漫无边际的文化苦旅中“追逐无家可归的潮水”,我想,他冥冥之中结晶的灵感与透彻的宣泄来自“永恒异乡人的召唤”,我想,他一直似有似无,似明似暗地从一条路 On an air-condensing night, I fixed Tagor’s “I” as him, because his flowing writing always contained “all the sadness and misgivings” because he always “chased the homeless” in a boundless cultural struggle. “The returnable tide”, I think, was inspired by his crystallization of crystallized inspiration and thorough discharge from the call of the “eternal foreigner”. I think that he has always seemed like nothing, and it seems like a dark road