姥姥家后面有座小山,山上有座小庙,通往小庙有一条青石板路。说这话就像说“从前有座山,山里有个庙”的童谣一样。但那青石板路的确是我的童谣。小时候总去那路上玩。男孩子打打杀杀地疯跑,我们女孩子喜欢采路旁的野花。那路旁开满了叫“曼花生”的小黄花,间或还有小花小草在青石板的缝隙中冒出来。特别是细雨过后,青石板路滑滑亮亮的,如同抹过了油,像隔壁叔叔的砚台。光着脚走过,凉丝丝的从脚底蔓延到发梢,脚步啪嗒啪嗒的打破寂静。 There is a hill behind the grandmother home, a small temple on the hill, leading to a small temple has a bluestone road. Saying this is like saying “there was a hill in the past, there was a temple in the mountain”. But that bluestone road is indeed my nursery rhyme. When I was young, I always went to play on that road. Boy slaughtered to kill crazy run, our girls like mining wildflowers next to the road. That road is full of small yellow flowers called “Man peanut ”, or between flowers and grass in the crevice of the bluestone. Especially after the rain, bluestone slippery road, as wiped the oil, like an uncle next door to the inkstone. Walking barefoot, cool slivers spread from the soles of the feet, flip-flops break the silence.