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村子里最德高望重的老人去世了,没有人知道他的年纪。人们说他去世时老得不成样子,我们都很伤心。那天金星低垂无光,第二天村口走来沉默的工人,在老人屋前平地竖起长长木房,轮轮奂奂,北构西折。木门挂了沙制门牌门牌刻了“历史博物馆”几字歪歪扭扭。可博物馆对村子没有意义。因为村子极小,以致冬来候鸟风击三千里恨而叹息。候鸟的叹息拧作一股凛冬烈风,开了木门散了沙牌,黄沙飞旋舞荒凉,遮天蔽日。疯子老贺说那是老人的手迹,我们都不相信。老贺停住我不松手。
The most noble old man in the village passed away and no one knew his age. People say he was horrendous when he died, and we were both sad. Venus drooped that day, the next day the village workers came silent, in the elderly flat erected long wooden houses, wheels Huan Huan, North West break. Wooden door hung sand house number engraved “Museum of History ” words crooked. Museum is not meaningful to the village. Because the village is so small that the winter migratory birds blow three thousand miles and sigh. Migratory bird sigh twisted into a winter strong gale, opened the wooden door scattered sand card, flying yellow sand flying desolate, sheltered the sun. Mad old he said it is the old man’s handwriting, we do not believe it. Old He stopped me not to let go.