喧嚣扰了清寂,霓虹乱了月影,光怪陆离的都市,攘来熙往的众生,一切都昭示着浮躁与繁华。时间一点点推动历史的脚步,却又一层层抹去历史的足印,而我,手执一卷发黄的诗册,却在试图寻找那渐远的古韵。那是古代的雨丝,湿了才子的青衿,润了佳人的云鬓。沿着青石板路,走进“庭院深几许?帘幕无重数”的雅致,微澜的湖面溅起“大珠小珠落玉盘”的宫商角徵羽,带起“落花人独立,微雨燕双飞”的惆怅。转过庭角,看见飞檐下“小轩窗,正梳妆”的欣喜,又感叹着 Noise disturbed the silence, the neon chaos moon shadow, bizarre city, bustling to the sentient beings, everything is booming impetuous and prosperous. A little time to promote the pace of history, but another layer to erase the footprints of history, and I, holding a roll of yellow poetry, is trying to find the distant charm. That is the ancient rain silk, wet wicked green grits, moist beauty of the clouds. Along the Qing Shiban Road, into the “courtyard how many? Curtains without heavy weight ” elegant, splashes of the lake splashes “Falling people independent, micro-Swift fly ” melancholy. Turn the corner, see the cornice under the “Xuan window, dressing is,” the joy, and sigh