老汉喘着粗气与儿子一起坐在地上。黄牛的嘴角堆着白沫,怯生生地望着主人脚下的鞭子。远处一抹殷红的晚霞。磨得发亮的犁把,记载着老汉两代人的勤劳。老汉的爹就是在天边布满晚霞的时候,用布满青筋的双手把鞭子交给他的:“娃,庄稼人的手艺要学会,一辈子都用得上。” 昔日娃已成了老汉。他掌犁翻起的垄笔直笔直,甩出去的鞭清脆悦耳。望着眼前正埋头看书的儿子,心中升腾起一种神圣的激情。 The old man panting sat with his son on the ground. The cow’s mouth was piled with white foam, timidly looking at the owner’s whip. A faint sunset in the distance. Polished bright plow handle, record the old man two generations of hard-working. Old man’s father is covered in the sky when the sunset sky, with his hands full of tendons to the whip to him: “Baby, the cropper’s craft to learn, life can be used.” "The old baby has become an old man. He plows upright pen upright straight pen, whip out crisp and sweet. Looked at the son who is now reading a book, heart rose a sacred passion.