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刚刚下过一场小雪,冬日的阳光在黄昏时分洒在了故乡老屋的窗格上,残雪铺覆在青色的瓦脊里,老屋孤单地矗立着,仿若一位历经沧桑的老人,在夕阳里等待着归家的游子。冬日恬静的农家院落里,此时炊烟已袅袅升起。当我又一次从远方归来,重新站在故乡的老屋前,儿时的回忆如喷涌而出的泉水,瞬间湮没了我的思维。虽然离开老屋二十年了,但我从来没有忘却这里的一切,包括隔壁三嫂家清晨的鸡鸣声,后院二婶家夜晚的犬吠声。
Just had a light snow, winter sunshine at dusk sprinkled on the panes of the old house, the canyon covered in the blue tile ridge, the old house stands alone, like a vicissitudes of the elderly, in the Waiting for the home of the sunset traveler. Winter quiet farmhouse courtyard, then smoke has curled up. When I returned again from afar, standing back in my hometown’s old house, my childhood memories such as the spring water poured out instantly obliterated my mind. Although I have been away from the old house for twenty years, I have never forgotten everything here, including the early morning tingling of the Sansao family next door and the barking of the second Aunt’s home night in the backyard.