在我很小很小的时候,我生长在层峦叠嶂的山沟沟里,放眼望去,到处是郁郁葱葱的树木和苍茫的青山。年轻的父亲很忧郁,常常沉默着,仿佛他的魂灵游离了肉体,在虚无里飘荡。父亲是孤寂的,日落西山夜幕初升的时候,他总把我揽在怀里,望着西天灿烂的霞彩,仿佛在喃喃自语,抑或千叮咛万嘱咐般地在我耳边絮叨,似乎要把他的絮语刻在我的脑海里。 When I was a very young man, I grew up in a ditch in the ditch of the valley ditch, looking ahead, full of lush trees and vast green hills. The young father is very melancholy, often silent, as if his soul free from the flesh, floating in nothingness. His father is lonely, the sunset at the beginning of the night, he always took me in his arms, looking at the brilliant Saturn color West, as if muttering, or asking a thousand tips in my ears, Seems to be his scrabble in my mind.