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村子前就那么一条路,清晨爷爷穿着破夹袄,牵着牛经过,温暖的阳光拂过每一个屋顶,仿佛每个人都能听见他渐行渐远的脚步声。村子西头是一片山坡,长了一茬又一茬青草。爷爷随身带有一把镰刀,在牛儿低头吃草的时候,爷爷也会弓着腰不停地劳动。山坡不远处就是村里的水稻田,偶尔抬头,看到秧苗的绿直到天边,爷爷就会微笑着盘算还有多长时间就要施肥、收割。等到太阳爬到了头顶,爷爷就牵着牛往回走。把牛拴到圈里,爷爷会喝一碗凉白开,然后就开始给牛刷背、修农具。
In front of the village, there was such a path. Grandpa was wearing a broken jacket in the early morning and led the cattle through the warm sunshine on every roof as if everyone could hear his footsteps going farther and farther. The west end of the village is a hillside, growing another crop of grass. Grandpa carry a sickle, grazing in the bull when bowed, my grandfather will bow to keep working. Not far from the hillside is the village of paddy fields, and occasionally looked up and saw the green seedlings until the horizon, grandfather will smile and plan how long there will be fertilization, harvesting. When the sun climbed to the top, my grandfather took the cow back. The tether to the ring, my grandfather will drink a bowl of cool open, and then began to cattle brush back, repair farm tools.