我常驻足于校园最高层的一角,偷偷望向几间无不令人又爱又怕硝烟气息的小屋。前辈们躬身伏道,整片大地除去纸笔相碰的低吟,就只剩下时钟刻骨而又戏嘘的滴答声。一个个坚毅而又瘦削、饱满而又单薄的身影在来往穿梭的岁月里刻下一副悲壮而又激情饱满的画卷。每个人都在这成人蜕变的关口,在数以千计的日夜磨砺后的战场,在这得以改变命运,实现理想的唯一一座独木桥前急不可耐,而又是如此沉静。我独自一人在悄无声息的楼道里,静静地被这强大激情 I often stop at the top of the campus corner, secretly looking at a few are all love and fear of smoke atmosphere hut. Bow bending predecessors Road, the whole earth to remove the paper crayon touch crooning, leaving only the clock engraved and playful ticking. One by one perseverance and thin, full and thin figure in the shuttle between the years carved a tragic and passionate picture. Everyone is impatient and calm at the threshold of this adult transformation, at the battlefields that have been sharpened by thousands of days and nights, before this single canoe of change that transforms the fate and the fulfillment of ideals. I am alone in the silent corridor, quietly by this strong passion