严冬黎明来临之前,母亲总是早早地第一个醒来。透过最后几许朦胧的睡意,我们听见她在屋里轻轻走动的声音。母亲走过我们的房间,仔细查看我们的衣服,我们的被单。她时常从中拣出一件,然后拿到厨房里,在一盏纱罩已破败不堪的煤气灯灯嘴上的微光中缝缝补补。不消片刻,母亲便走到街 Before the dawn of winter, my mother always woke up early. Through the dreary drowsiness of the last few moments, we heard her gently moving around in the house. Mother walks through our room and looks carefully at our clothes, our sheets. She often picks one out of them and takes it to the kitchen to make up the glimmer in the glimmer of a gas-lipped lamp bezel. In a moment, the mother went to the street