一童年的记忆里,有一盏灯火,灯火如豆,母亲却用那微弱的光亮照亮了我此生的路。年轻时的母亲有一副宽厚的肩膀。无数个夜晚,她用身体遮掩着灯光,把我遮在暗处,让我在暗处安心入睡。我常常会在半夜里醒来,醒了,却不弄出声响,看母亲在灯下全神贯注的神情,看她在一块布上飞针走线的手。那双手,就像是围绕着昏黄的灯光上下翩飞的一对蝴蝶,飞着飞着,就成了浓浓的爱意。 In a childhood memory, there was a light, a lamp like a bean, but my mother used that faint light to illuminate my way through this life. The young mother had a generous shoulder. Numerous nights, she covered the body with light, cover me in the dark, let me fall asleep peace of mind in the dark. I often woke up in the middle of the night, woke up, but did not make a noise, look at the mother’s concentration under the lamp look at her in a piece of cloth flying needle hand. The hands, like a pair of butterflies fluttering up and down around a dim light, flew in and became a deep love.