“四月是最冷酷的季节。”艾略特曾经这样写道。我认为他的意思是春天会让人疯狂。我们想要的太多,世界却在急速地发展,所有的承诺都不能实现,所有的热情都是一个陷阱,我们注定会再次伤心。我表示赞同,还想再添加一句话:“谁会在乎呢?”每个春天我都会莫名其妙地发怒,我的灵魂仿佛岩石缝隙中散落的冰,在炙热的阳光下慢慢融化,像万箭穿心般疼痛。又一个春天来临了,我站在前门口,眯着双 “April is the coldest season.” Eliot once wrote. I think he means spring is crazy. We want too much, the world is growing rapidly, all the promises can not be made, and all our enthusiasm is a trap. We are doomed to be sad again. I agree, would like to add a sentence: “Who cares?” Every spring I will be somehow angry, as if my soul is scattered in the rock crevices of the ice, melting slowly in the hot sun, like Million arrow wear heart-like pain. Another spring is coming, I stand in front of the door, squinting double