这应该是席慕容的第二本诗集。书中参差不齐地摆放着诗人的青涩时光,她对遇见、相聚、离舍、思念的一个个旧梦。我觉得,诗就像梦。时间匆匆走过,不留痕迹,我们不能留住什么。但纸上翩然的诗句,让我们可以在字里行间,找回一些青春的旧梦。在或明或暗的时空里,诗句交融碰撞,依然能让我们铭记青春中某一个琐碎的、一晃 This should be Xi Murong’s second book of poetry. In the book, the poet’s sultry time was unevenly arranged. She had one old dream of meeting, meeting, leaving, and missing. I think poetry is like a dream. Time passed in a hurry, leaving no trace. We can’t keep anything. But the bleak verse on the paper allows us to find some old dreams of youth in the lines. In the bright or dark space and time, the verses collide and collide, still allowing us to remember a certain trivial moment in youth.