古黄河的两岸,一代代踉跄的纤夫背负着搁浅的命运逆流而上。他们拽一根根浸透血汗的纤绳,把沉重的磨难勒进肌肉,勒进又腥又苦的心头。头顶是流动的苍穹,脚下是锋利的沙砾,他们和层层泡沫一道喘息,与漫长的历史一同匍匐。他们低垂的头颅仿佛贴在地上,油黑的脊梁似拱起的山岗,苍劲的四肢如千年虬枝,耸起的肩膀牵引着希望。在蒙蒙水雾里,赤裸的脚踩碎顽石,结茧的肩膀磨断无数纤绳,在悲壮的涛声中,古老黄河纤夫的脊梁渐渐拉成了怒张的 On both sides of the ancient Yellow River, generations of grievances and sorrows are shouldering the fate of countercurrent. They dragged a rooted, blood-laden fiber rope into the muscle, intoxicated and fishy and bitter heart. The flowing sky above the head, the sharp gravel beneath our feet, they breathe with layers of foam, creeping along with the long history. Their drooping heads seemed to stick to the ground, the crevices of the oil-black spines resembled the valleys, and the vigorous limbs, like the twigs of the millennium, shook their shoulders with hope. Misty fog, naked feet crushed stone, cocoon shoulder grinding numerous fiber rope, in the tragic Tao Sheng, the backbone of the ancient Yellow River fisherman gradually pulled into a rage