……
我可以自豪的說，從初二到初三，兩年一百零四個星期，不管刮風下雨，我總是要把她送到汽車站再回家。至於學校的活動，我是再也沒參加過。
可是我們在路上談些什麽呢？哎呀，說起來都很不光彩。有時甚至什麽也不說，就是默默地送她上了汽車，茫然地看著汽車遠去的背影，然後回家。
有一天我們在街上走，她忽然問我：“你喜歡詩嗎？”
那時我正讀萊蒙托夫的詩選讀得上癮，就說：“啊，非常喜歡。”後來我們就經常談詩。她喜歡普希金樸素的長詩，連童話詩都喜歡。可是我喜歡的是萊蒙托夫那種不朽的抒情短詩。我們甚至為了這兩種詩的優劣爭執起來。為了說服我，她給我背誦了青銅騎士的楔子，我簡直沒法形容她是怎麽念出：我愛你，彼得建造的大城……她不知不覺在離車站十幾米的報亭邊停住了，直到她把詩背完。
可是我也給她念了：《我愛這連綿不斷的青山》和《遙遠的星星是明亮的》。那一天我們很晚才分手。
有一天學校開大會，我們出來的時候已經很晚了。那是五月間的事情。白天下了一場雨。可是晚上又很冷。沒有風。結果是起了雨霧。天黑得很早。沿街樓房的窗戶上噴著一團團白色的光。大街上，水銀燈在在半天織起了衝天的白霧。人、汽車隱隱約約地出現和消失。我們走到十路汽車站旁。幾盞昏暗的路燈下，人們就像在水底一樣。我們無言地走著，妖妖忽然問我：“你看這個夜霧，我們怎麽形容它呢？”我鬼使神差地做起詩來，並且馬上念出來。要知道我過去根本不認為自己有一點作詩的天分。
我說：“妖妖，你看那水銀燈的燈光像什麽？大團的蒲公英浮在街道的河流口，吞吐著柔軟的針一樣的光。”妖妖說：“好，那麽我們在人行道上走呢？這昏吰的路燈呢？”
我抬頭看看路燈，它把昏黃的燈光隔著蒙蒙的霧氣一直投向地麵。
我說：“我們好象在池塘的水底。從一個月亮走向另一個月亮。”
妖妖忽然大驚小怪地叫起來：“你是詩人呢！”我說：“我是詩人？不錯，當然我是詩人。”
“你怎麽啦？我說真的呢！你很可以做一個不壞的詩人。你有真正的詩人氣質！”
……
I can proudly say that from the second to the third year of junior high school, two years and one hundred and four weeks, no matter how windy or rainy, I would always take her to the bus station and go home. As for school activities, I never participated in them again.
But what did we talk about on the road? Oops, that sounds disgraceful. Sometimes he didn't even say anything, just silently sent her to the car, stared blankly at the back of the car, and then went home.
One day we were walking on the street, she suddenly asked me, "Do you like poetry?"
At that time, I was reading Lermontov's anthology and became addicted to it, and I said, "Ah, I like it very much." Later we talked about poetry a lot. She liked Pushkin's long and simple poems, even fairy tales. But what I like is the immortal lyric poems of Lermontov. We even argued over the merits of the two poems. In order to convince me, she recited the wedge of the Bronze Knight to me, and I can't describe how she read it out: I love you, the great city that Peter built... She unknowingly stopped at the newsstand a dozen meters away from the station , until she has memorized the poem.
But I also read to her: "I love the continuous green hills" and "The distant stars are bright". We broke up very late that day.
One day there was a school meeting and we came out very late. That was in May. It rained during the day. But it was cold at night. There was no wind. The result was rain and fog. It got dark early. The windows of the buildings along the street were sprayed with clumps of white light. On the street, the mercury lamps weaved a white mist that shot into the sky for a long time. People and cars appear and disappear indistinctly. We walked to the Shilu bus station. Under a few dim street lamps, people seemed to be underwater. We walked silently, when Yaoyao suddenly asked me, "Look at this night fog, how can we describe it?" You know, I didn't think I had any talent for poetry in the past at all.
I said, "Yaoyao, what do you think the light of the mercury lamp looks like? Large groups of dandelions float at the mouth of the river in the street, emitting soft needle-like light." Yaoyao said, "Okay, then let's walk on the sidewalk. What? What about this dim street light?"
I looked up at the street lamp, it cast the dim yellow light all the way to the ground through the misty fog.
I said, "We seem to be at the bottom of a pond. From moon to moon."
Yaoyao suddenly exclaimed, "You are a poet!" I said, "I am a poet? Yes, of course I am a poet."
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