总是走在村庄的路上,我的目光,总是先落在一片叶子一只虫子身上,总是幻想长成一颗麦子一条黄瓜的样子。我总是守口如瓶。不去说破一只蟋蟀在草尖的秘密,不去说出青草和树叶间的时光。我总是将月亮铺成一张白纸,写上村庄,写上屋后的杂草,墙上挂着的锄头,猪圈的犁耙,还要种上爱情、雨水、飞翔和阳光。然后,坐在一朵叫做同盟村的云片上,让它们长高的长高、长粗的长粗。那些不能长高、不能长粗的,就让它们坐看云淡风轻、 Always walking on the way of the village, my eyes always fall on a leaf of a worm, always imagining the appearance of a cucumber into a wheat. I'm always tight-lipped Not to tease a cricket tip of the secret, not to tell the time between the grass and leaves. I always paved the moon with a piece of white paper, a village, a house weed, a hoe hanging on a wall, a rake in a pigsty, and love, rain, flying and sunshine. Then sit on a cloud called the Confederate village, so that they grow taller, long and thick. Those who can not grow taller, can not grow thick, let them sit quietly,