牛,在草地上行走,草在枯黄。风把落叶吹得一地,野花凋零,芦花白了。牛身后的草,血,已干涸;过去疯长的激情,无法再挤出茂盛的绿色。泥土长出村庄的忧伤,伴以南飞的雁鸣和清瘦的炊烟,飘荡如流水的日子。一场秋雨,把村庄的骨头打凉。一场秋霜,把老农的咳嗽拉长。牛,在衰草中啃秋。草尖上有风的诉说,草根下有蚂蚁爬行。牛,听到了蚂蚁回家的声音,听到了草根在月光下行走的声音。篱笆墙爬满思念,牛知道:那是村庄的女 Cattle, walking on the grass, grass in the yellow. The wind blew the leaves, wild flowers dying, aloe white. Grass behind the cow, blood, has dried up; the passion of the past soaring, unable to squeeze lush green. Muds grow village sadness, accompanied by the South fly Yanming and lean smoke, floating like a stream of water. An autumn rain, the village bones cool. An autumn frost, the farmer’s cough lengthen. Cattle, gnawing autumn in bad weather. Windy grass pointed tip, there are ants crawling grassroots. Cattle heard the ants go home and heard the grass roots walking in the moonlight. Fence full of thoughts, cattle know: that is the village’s woman