一个夏日的午后,小睡,忽然被一种声音惊醒。惊惶四顾,周围寂静无比,那声音却似仍响在心里,刚才短短的梦境逐渐清晰,知道那个声音竟是穿透了近三十年的光阴,传入梦里。那是从一块磨石上发出的声音。那块磨石是爷爷的最爱,几乎每一天,他都要在上面磨些东西。爷爷是木匠,除了磨他的那些锛刨斧锯,家里所有的镰刀什么的,也都被磨得亮亮的。常常 A summer afternoon, nap, suddenly awakened by a voice. Frightened look around, very quiet around, but the sound seems to still ring in my heart, just a short dream gradually clear, that voice actually penetrated nearly thirty years of time, into the dream. That is the sound from a millstone. The grindstone is my grandfather’s favorite, and almost every day, he must rub something on it. Grandpa is a carpenter, except for those who grind him ax ax saw, all the sickle at home are also being polished bright. often