庄稼一枝花,全凭粪当家。雨歇下来的时候,空气中荡漾着臭烘烘的牛粪味,父亲对头钻到书里的我说,光知道看书,书能当饭吃啊。我昂起了装满故事的脑袋,父亲说,捡牛粪去。我便在看过的地方夹了一片树叶,趁父亲走后让书躲到褥子下。书都是从石头手上借的。石头家门口的空地 A crop of flowers, the whole manure alone. When the rain broke down, the air was rippling with the smell of stinky cow manure, and my father said to me in the book, knowing that reading books and books can be eaten. I raised my head full of stories, my father said, pick up cow dung to go. I have caught a leaf in the place I saw, taking advantage of his father left the book hid under the mattress. The books are borrowed from the stone hand. Stone home front of the open space