……
我可以自豪的说，从初二到初三，两年一百零四个星期，不管刮风下雨，我总是要把她送到汽车站再回家。至于学校的活动，我是再也没参加过。
可是我们在路上谈些什么呢？哎呀，说起来都很不光彩。有时甚至什么也不说，就是默默地送她上了汽车，茫然地看着汽车远去的背影，然后回家。
有一天我们在街上走，她忽然问我：“你喜欢诗吗？”
那时我正读莱蒙托夫的诗选读得上瘾，就说：“啊，非常喜欢。”后来我们就经常谈诗。她喜欢普希金朴素的长诗，连童话诗都喜欢。可是我喜欢的是莱蒙托夫那种不朽的抒情短诗。我们甚至为了这两种诗的优劣争执起来。为了说服我，她给我背诵了青铜骑士的楔子，我简直没法形容她是怎么念出：我爱你，彼得建造的大城……她不知不觉在离车站十几米的报亭边停住了，直到她把诗背完。
可是我也给她念了：《我爱这连绵不断的青山》和《遥远的星星是明亮的》。那一天我们很晚才分手。
有一天学校开大会，我们出来的时候已经很晚了。那是五月间的事情。白天下了一场雨。可是晚上又很冷。没有风。结果是起了雨雾。天黑得很早。沿街楼房的窗户上喷着一团团白色的光。大街上，水银灯在在半天织起了冲天的白雾。人、汽车隐隐约约地出现和消失。我们走到十路汽车站旁。几盏昏暗的路灯下，人们就像在水底一样。我们无言地走着，妖妖忽然问我：“你看这个夜雾，我们怎么形容它呢？”我鬼使神差地做起诗来，并且马上念出来。要知道我过去根本不认为自己有一点作诗的天分。
我说：“妖妖，你看那水银灯的灯光像什么？大团的蒲公英浮在街道的河流口，吞吐着柔软的针一样的光。”妖妖说：“好，那么我们在人行道上走呢？这昏吰的路灯呢？”
我抬头看看路灯，它把昏黄的灯光隔着蒙蒙的雾气一直投向地面。
我说：“我们好象在池塘的水底。从一个月亮走向另一个月亮。”
妖妖忽然大惊小怪地叫起来：“你是诗人呢！”我说：“我是诗人？不错，当然我是诗人。”
“你怎么啦？我说真的呢！你很可以做一个不坏的诗人。你有真正的诗人气质！”
……
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."