父亲将他的青春奉献给大山。清明时节,我冒着霏霏细雨,回到了阔别的家乡。父亲的腰弯得深深的,像是融进了茶园无涯的绿意里。漫山遍野的深绿、碧绿、浅绿直逼我的眼球,又像是给大山围上了一层曼妙的绿纱。我随着父亲走向茶园更深处,四周涌动着如凝脂般厚重的绿意。任南风带着沁人的土香袭乱我们的头发,那不该被打扰的世界似乎在浅斟低唱。山里的孩子喜爱漫游于山林,趁散放的鹧鸪还未归巢,偷偷寻觅它们下的蛋。夕阳西下,肥嘟嘟的小子用衣裳兜着满满的鹧鸪蛋回家。 Father dedicated his youth to the mountains. Ching Ming Festival, I risked drizzle rain, returned to the distant hometown. Father’s waist bent deep, like melting into the endless green tea. The mountains and plains of dark green, green, light green almost my eyes, but also like to the mountain surrounded by a layer of graceful green yarn. As my father walked deeper into the tea plantation, I was surrounded by thick, green greenery. Ren southerly soil with incense disturbing our hair, the world that should not be disturbed seems to pour in the soft light. Children in the mountains love to roam the mountains, while the partridges that have been released have not yet homing and secretly look for the eggs under them. The setting sun, plump boy dressed in clothes full of partridge eggs home.