又一阵冷风。我没有动。晃动的,是走廊上那件空荡荡的衬衫。——颜梅玖(中国·诗人)粉尘般的木屑,咕咕咕,从钢锯的齿缝里吐出来。一根圆木横架在三角权的木桩上,钢锯被四只粗壮的手,均匀拉扯。我蹲在矮墙上,木屑呈转动的半圆弧状,飞扬过来。最细最轻的一部分,从空中落下来,落在我发梢和肩膀上。木屑有积淀的阳光和惺忪的黄泥气息,与因多年存放而滋生将腐的木香,在黄昏时分,一具扑涌而来。夏季收割后的田畴,疏朗,田埂上的扁豆还在开花,青色的 Another burst of cold. I did not move. Swaying is the empty shirt on the corridor. - Yan Mei Jiu (Chinese poet) Dust-like sawdust, cooing, spit it out from the teeth of a hacksaw. A round log hung on a triangular stake and the hacksaw was pulled by four stout hands evenly. I crouched on the low wall, sawdust turned semi-circular arc, flying over. The thinnest part, falling from the sky, falls on my hair and shoulders. Sawdust has the accumulation of sunshine and bleary yellow mud flavor, and because of years of storage and will rot rotten wood, at dusk, a rushing from. Field after the summer harvest, open, field lentils beans are still flowering, blue