九月 别叙抒情的日子 那一垄稻子就是您浇灌的一篇 散文 星星和月亮都在日记里 描绘了您的形象 您牵住太阳的衣襟 ‘犁出一行行粗朴的诗句 种下一家人的希望 当山梁上的梯田蜿蜒到您的前额 我才把草鞋兑换成皮鞋 乡亲的目光 射飞了您的忧伤 有人问我的祖坟葬在哪儿 您指着太阳 In September, the day of the lyrical day, the ridge rice is a piece of prose that you have watered. The stars and the moon describe your image in the diary. You catch the sun’s coat. Plow out a line of rough verse to plant your family’s life. I hope that when the terraces on the mountain beam reach you on the forehead, I only convert the sandals into leather shoes and the eyes of the folks have shot your sorrow. Someone asked me where my graves are buried and you point to the sun.