有这样一种工作,叫做“逢山凿路,遇水架桥”;有这样一群男人,远离亲人,远离都市,夜以继日地工作着。环顾他们四周,尘土、钢筋、混凝土、挖掘机、吊车、电焊、群山、沟壑……却也以白云,星星为伴,战斗在祖国最需要的地方。他们就是工地上的男人。我的邻居叔叔就是一名建筑工人。他有一张照片,没事就轻轻地抚摸着。照片里,一个四五岁大的小孩红着脸,捧着一本《唐诗三百首》,嘴里还念叨什么。有时候,我放学在建筑工地看到他。他满头大汗,虽然 There is such a work, called “every mountain chisel road, water bridge”; there is such a group of men, away from their loved ones, away from the city, working day and night. Look around them, dust, steel, concrete, excavators, cranes, electric welding, mountains, ravines ... but also with white clouds, stars companion, fighting in the most needy place in the motherland. They are men on the jobsite. My neighbor’s uncle is a construction worker. He had a picture and touched nothing with nothing. In the photo, a four-year-old kid blushing, holding a “three hundred Tang poems,” what’s in his mouth. Sometimes I see him on the construction site after school. He sweated profusely, though