小院一直在我记忆的谷仓里储存着。储存的是一块苍凉而温暖的小社稷——一根草,摇曳着我的童心;一块泥巴,安静着哥哥的心事;一朵花,剪着姐姐的瘦影;老式的农具,是父亲朝夕相伴的老伙计;爷爷的烟锅,呵斥着父亲打我们的老巴掌;奶奶的纺车,抽不完的是我们的成长和絮语;我们冷了,热了,病了,饿了,母亲干瘪的乳房立刻知道……那时的小院,一家人都是皇帝,也是臣 Small courtyard has been stored in my memory of the barn. A piece of grass, swaying my innocence; a piece of mud, quiet with my brother’s thoughts; a flower, cut sister’s thin shadow; old-style farm tools, accompanied by his father overnight Old man; Grandfather’s pot, scolding his father hit our old slap; Grandma’s spinning wheel, pumping endless is our growth and whisper; we are cold, hot, sick, hungry, mother shriveled breasts Immediately know ... ... at that time the small courtyard, the family is the emperor, but also minister