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我在塞北一个小山村插队务农的时候,村后的西梁山上有一棵沙果树,树下有一条小道,弯弯曲曲地通向不远处的另一个山坡,坡下就是我们的干沟村了。那是70年代的一个夏日,我和两个知青伙伴,各自背着沉重的柴,弯着腰、低着头从沙果树下走过。山风吹着飒飒的树叶,一阵果香气让我们停留在树边的山道上。是对沙果味道的渴望,我们歇住了脚,不再沿着路继续背柴向前走,把背架上的柴放倒在路旁,我们向着沙果树靠拢。
When I was put in a small village in northern Saibei for a job, there was a sand-fruit tree on the Xiliang Mountain behind the village. There was a trail under the tree, windingly leading to another hill not far away. It’s It was a summer day in the 1970s when I and two educated youth partners, each carrying a heavy firewood, bent over and bowed their heads to walk under the tree of sago. Wind blowing rustle the leaves, a burst of fruit aroma so that we stay in the mountain road on the tree. It was the craving for the taste of the sago. We stopped our feet, stopped walking along the road, and put the firewood on the backside down to the side of the road, and we moved closer to the sago tree.