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原文作者簡介：
丁立梅，笔名梅子，紫色梅子。江苏东台人。职业：教师。喜欢用音乐煮文字。系中国作家协会会员。《读者》、《青年文摘》、《特别关注》等畅销杂志签约作家。在《哲思》等多家报刊开有专栏。出版有作品集《诗经里的那些情事》、《风会记得一朵花的香》、《等待绽放》、《暖爱》、《你在，世界就在》等20多部。文章被选进《灵感与感动》等上百种文集。上百篇文章被设计成高考、中考语文阅读题。
《祖母的葵花》原文：
我总是要想到葵花，一排一排，种在小院门口。
是祖母种的。祖母伺弄土地，就像她在鞋面上绣花一样，一针下去，绿的是叶，再一针下去，黄的是花。
记忆里的黄花总也开不败。
丝瓜、黄瓜是搭在架子上长的。扁扁的绿叶在风中婆娑，那些小黄花，就开在叶间，很妖娆地笑着。南瓜多数是趴在地上长的，长长的蔓，会牵引得很远很远。像对遥远的他方怀了无限向往，蓄着劲儿要追寻了去。遥远的他方有什么？一定是爱情。我相信南瓜是一个痴情女子，在一路的追寻中，绽开大朵大朵黄的花。黄得很浓艳，是化不开的情。
还有一种植物，被祖母称作乌子的。它像爬山虎似的，顺着墙角往上爬，枝枝蔓蔓都是绿绿的，一直把整座房子包裹住了才作罢。忽一日，哗啦啦花都开了，远远看去，房子插了满头黄花呀，美得让人心疼。
最突出的，还是葵花。它们挺立着，情绪饱满，斗志昂扬，迎着太阳的方向，把头颅昂起，再昂起。小时我曾奇怪于它怎么总迎着太阳转呢，伸了小手，拼命拉扯那大盘的花，不让它看太阳。但我手一松，它弹跳一下，头颅又昂上去，永不可折弯的样子。
凡·高在1888年的《向日葵》里，用大把金黄，来渲染葵花。画中，一朵一朵葵花，在阳光下怒放。仿佛是“背景上迸发出的燃烧的火焰”，凡·高说，那是爱的最强光。在颇多失意颇多徬徨的日子里，那大朵的葵花，给他幽暗沉郁的心，注入最后的温暖。
我的祖母不知道凡·高，不懂得爱的最强光。但她喜欢种葵花。在那些缺衣少吃的岁月里，院门前那一排排葵花，在我们心头，投下最明艳的色彩。葵花开了，就快有香香的瓜子嗑了。这是一种很香的等待，这样的等待很幸福。
葵花结籽，亦有另一种风韵。沉甸甸的，望得见日月风光在里头喧闹。这个时候，它的头颅开始低垂，有些含羞，有些深沉。但腰杆仍是挺直的。一颗一颗的瓜子，一日一日成形，饱满，吸足阳光和花香。葵花成熟起来，蜂窝一般的。祖母摘下它们，轻轻敲，一颗一颗的瓜子，就落到祖母预先放好的匾子里。放在阳光下晒，会闻见花朵的香气。一颗瓜子，原是一朵花的魂啊。
瓜子晒干，祖母会用文火炒熟，这个孩子口袋里装一把，那个孩子口袋里装一把。我们的童年就这样香香地过来了。
如今，祖母老了，老得连葵花也种不动了。老家屋前，一片空落的寂静。七月的天空下，祖母坐在老屋院门口，坐在老槐树底下，不错眼地盯着一个方向看。我想，那里，一定有一棵葵花正开，在祖母的心里面。
Grandmother’s Sunflowers
Ding Limei
I always think of the sunflowers standing in rows in front of the yard.
They were grown by my grandmother who took care of the soil like doing embroidering. A green leaf appeared after a needle and a yellow flower after another.
The yellow flowers in my memory were always in full blooms.
Loofahs and cucumbers were growing on the shelves. Their oblate green leaves were whirling in the wind， and in midst of them were little yellow flowers， smiling enchantingly. Pumpkins were generally growing on the ground with their vines extending to the distance. It seemed like they were yearning for and trying their best to pursue the distance. What was it in the far distance？ It must be love affairs. I believed that the pumpkin was a girl deeply in love， who pursed her love with big yellow flowers. The bright yellow hue was love entangled in her heart.
There was another kind of plant called Wuzi by my grandmother. Like Japanese creepers， they climbed along corners of the wall until they wrapped the whole house with their green branches and tendrils. Suddenly one day， they were all blooming. The house was covered with yellow flowers from the view of distance. They were beautiful so much so that they arouse my compassion on them. However， the most highlighted were sunflowers. They stood upright and raised their heads to the sun’s direction with high spirits. In my childhood， I was curious that why they always turned their heads to the sun. So I pulled hard their heads with my little hands to stop them facing the sun. But once I let them go， their heads jumped back. It seemed like that they would never be bent.
Van Gogh painted sunflowers with abundant golden yellow in his masterpiece Sunflowers in 1888. In the painting， so many sunflowers were blooming in the sunshine like “burning fire burst from the background”. In Van Gogh’s words， “it is the strongest light of love.” In those frustrating and undecided days， those big sunflowers injected the last warm to his gloomy and dreary heart.
My grandmother didn’t know Van Gogh， and nor did she understand “the strongest light of love”. But she enjoyed growing sunflowers. In the years when we didn’t have enough clothes and foods， the rows of sunflowers in front of the yard casted the most bright color in our hearts. When the sunflowers were blooming， we would have fragrant sunflower seeds to eat soon. That was a very fragrant waiting， which made us very happy.
It was also charming for sunflowers to set seeds. We could see time and scenery bustling in the heavy seeds. At this time， the sunflowers began to hang their heads with a little shyness and deepness. But their back were still straight. The seeds were taking shape and fullness， absorbing sunshine and fragrance of flowers. The sunflowers looked like honeycombs when they were ripe. Grandmother picked off and slightly knocked the sunflowers， and the seeds dropped into the beforehand container. We could smell the fragrance of sunflowers when they were basked in the sunshine. A seed was the soul of a sunflower.
When the seeds were dried， grandmother would stir-fry them with slow fire. Every kid’s pocket would be filled with the seeds. We passed our childhood “fragrantly” like this.
Now grandmother is too old to grow sunflowers. Only emptiness and silence reigned in front of our old house. Under the sky of July， grandmother sits under the old locust tree in front of our old house， staring at a direction without a blink. I think a sunflower must be blooming in her heart.
作者簡介：
马健（1988～），男，江苏宿迁人，云南民族大学外国语学院硕士研究生，研究方向：笔译理论与实践。
丁立梅，笔名梅子，紫色梅子。江苏东台人。职业：教师。喜欢用音乐煮文字。系中国作家协会会员。《读者》、《青年文摘》、《特别关注》等畅销杂志签约作家。在《哲思》等多家报刊开有专栏。出版有作品集《诗经里的那些情事》、《风会记得一朵花的香》、《等待绽放》、《暖爱》、《你在，世界就在》等20多部。文章被选进《灵感与感动》等上百种文集。上百篇文章被设计成高考、中考语文阅读题。
《祖母的葵花》原文：
我总是要想到葵花，一排一排，种在小院门口。
是祖母种的。祖母伺弄土地，就像她在鞋面上绣花一样，一针下去，绿的是叶，再一针下去，黄的是花。
记忆里的黄花总也开不败。
丝瓜、黄瓜是搭在架子上长的。扁扁的绿叶在风中婆娑，那些小黄花，就开在叶间，很妖娆地笑着。南瓜多数是趴在地上长的，长长的蔓，会牵引得很远很远。像对遥远的他方怀了无限向往，蓄着劲儿要追寻了去。遥远的他方有什么？一定是爱情。我相信南瓜是一个痴情女子，在一路的追寻中，绽开大朵大朵黄的花。黄得很浓艳，是化不开的情。
还有一种植物，被祖母称作乌子的。它像爬山虎似的，顺着墙角往上爬，枝枝蔓蔓都是绿绿的，一直把整座房子包裹住了才作罢。忽一日，哗啦啦花都开了，远远看去，房子插了满头黄花呀，美得让人心疼。
最突出的，还是葵花。它们挺立着，情绪饱满，斗志昂扬，迎着太阳的方向，把头颅昂起，再昂起。小时我曾奇怪于它怎么总迎着太阳转呢，伸了小手，拼命拉扯那大盘的花，不让它看太阳。但我手一松，它弹跳一下，头颅又昂上去，永不可折弯的样子。
凡·高在1888年的《向日葵》里，用大把金黄，来渲染葵花。画中，一朵一朵葵花，在阳光下怒放。仿佛是“背景上迸发出的燃烧的火焰”，凡·高说，那是爱的最强光。在颇多失意颇多徬徨的日子里，那大朵的葵花，给他幽暗沉郁的心，注入最后的温暖。
我的祖母不知道凡·高，不懂得爱的最强光。但她喜欢种葵花。在那些缺衣少吃的岁月里，院门前那一排排葵花，在我们心头，投下最明艳的色彩。葵花开了，就快有香香的瓜子嗑了。这是一种很香的等待，这样的等待很幸福。
葵花结籽，亦有另一种风韵。沉甸甸的，望得见日月风光在里头喧闹。这个时候，它的头颅开始低垂，有些含羞，有些深沉。但腰杆仍是挺直的。一颗一颗的瓜子，一日一日成形，饱满，吸足阳光和花香。葵花成熟起来，蜂窝一般的。祖母摘下它们，轻轻敲，一颗一颗的瓜子，就落到祖母预先放好的匾子里。放在阳光下晒，会闻见花朵的香气。一颗瓜子，原是一朵花的魂啊。
瓜子晒干，祖母会用文火炒熟，这个孩子口袋里装一把，那个孩子口袋里装一把。我们的童年就这样香香地过来了。
如今，祖母老了，老得连葵花也种不动了。老家屋前，一片空落的寂静。七月的天空下，祖母坐在老屋院门口，坐在老槐树底下，不错眼地盯着一个方向看。我想，那里，一定有一棵葵花正开，在祖母的心里面。
Grandmother’s Sunflowers
Ding Limei
I always think of the sunflowers standing in rows in front of the yard.
They were grown by my grandmother who took care of the soil like doing embroidering. A green leaf appeared after a needle and a yellow flower after another.
The yellow flowers in my memory were always in full blooms.
Loofahs and cucumbers were growing on the shelves. Their oblate green leaves were whirling in the wind， and in midst of them were little yellow flowers， smiling enchantingly. Pumpkins were generally growing on the ground with their vines extending to the distance. It seemed like they were yearning for and trying their best to pursue the distance. What was it in the far distance？ It must be love affairs. I believed that the pumpkin was a girl deeply in love， who pursed her love with big yellow flowers. The bright yellow hue was love entangled in her heart.
There was another kind of plant called Wuzi by my grandmother. Like Japanese creepers， they climbed along corners of the wall until they wrapped the whole house with their green branches and tendrils. Suddenly one day， they were all blooming. The house was covered with yellow flowers from the view of distance. They were beautiful so much so that they arouse my compassion on them. However， the most highlighted were sunflowers. They stood upright and raised their heads to the sun’s direction with high spirits. In my childhood， I was curious that why they always turned their heads to the sun. So I pulled hard their heads with my little hands to stop them facing the sun. But once I let them go， their heads jumped back. It seemed like that they would never be bent.
Van Gogh painted sunflowers with abundant golden yellow in his masterpiece Sunflowers in 1888. In the painting， so many sunflowers were blooming in the sunshine like “burning fire burst from the background”. In Van Gogh’s words， “it is the strongest light of love.” In those frustrating and undecided days， those big sunflowers injected the last warm to his gloomy and dreary heart.
My grandmother didn’t know Van Gogh， and nor did she understand “the strongest light of love”. But she enjoyed growing sunflowers. In the years when we didn’t have enough clothes and foods， the rows of sunflowers in front of the yard casted the most bright color in our hearts. When the sunflowers were blooming， we would have fragrant sunflower seeds to eat soon. That was a very fragrant waiting， which made us very happy.
It was also charming for sunflowers to set seeds. We could see time and scenery bustling in the heavy seeds. At this time， the sunflowers began to hang their heads with a little shyness and deepness. But their back were still straight. The seeds were taking shape and fullness， absorbing sunshine and fragrance of flowers. The sunflowers looked like honeycombs when they were ripe. Grandmother picked off and slightly knocked the sunflowers， and the seeds dropped into the beforehand container. We could smell the fragrance of sunflowers when they were basked in the sunshine. A seed was the soul of a sunflower.
When the seeds were dried， grandmother would stir-fry them with slow fire. Every kid’s pocket would be filled with the seeds. We passed our childhood “fragrantly” like this.
Now grandmother is too old to grow sunflowers. Only emptiness and silence reigned in front of our old house. Under the sky of July， grandmother sits under the old locust tree in front of our old house， staring at a direction without a blink. I think a sunflower must be blooming in her heart.
作者簡介：
马健（1988～），男，江苏宿迁人，云南民族大学外国语学院硕士研究生，研究方向：笔译理论与实践。