我从乡下来到城里,十多年来,常被辛弃疾的诗句吸引:稻花香里说丰年,听取蛙声一片。今天,我从城里回乡下老家。夏天的晨光下,稻苗长得翠绿诱人。我沿着一条田埂走向老家。我生于斯长于斯,寸寸故土留下童年的足迹,阵阵蛙声陪伴美好的日子。我心潮起伏,高高低低的蛙鸣,在记忆中清脆起来了。我清醒意识到,如湖的蛙声, 唧唧呱呱,长着飞翔的翅膀,从灌浆的禾苗里飞出采,传到我的耳朵,沁入心灵的深处。这不是在远逝的梦里。我在城里,住着宽敞的房子,吃穿不愁,可常感到乡愁像一根无形的线,连在城市与故土之间,扯不断,理还乱。十多年对故土的依恋,沉淀在心底,压抑在喉咙,如今,在不经意间被一只只青蛙吟唱为动听的歌声: I came to the city from the countryside for more than a decade and was often attracted by the poem of Xin Qiji: rice fragrant incense, said the harvest, a frog heard. Today, I went home from the city hometown. Under the dawn of the summer, rice seedlings grow green and attractive. I walked home along a field. I was born in Sri Lanka in Sri Lanka, inches inch left footprints of childhood, bursts of frog accompanied by a beautiful day. My ups and downs, high and low frogs, crisp in memory. I woke up to realize that, like the frogs of the lake, chirp, flying wings, they flew from the grafted seedlings and spread to my ears and into the depths of my soul. This is not in the distant dream. I live in the city, spacious house, eat and worry about, can often feel nostalgia like an invisible line, even in the city and its homeland, pull constantly, chaos. Ten years of attachment to his homeland, settling in my heart, suppressed in the throat, and nowadays, inadvertently singing by a frog is a pleasant song: