他老了。仿佛一件使用多年的工具。农具的把柄像腰身一样弯了,斑驳的锈迹是他身上皴裂的皮肤。偶尔一处闪着亮光的地方,是被他多次用泪水清洗过的眼睛。他现在已经不能到远点的地里耕作了,但还在那三间低矮的平房周围种些一日三餐的小菜。他摘了一把青菜,抬头望望房上的檩椽,那些椽是他当年亲手种的树,笔直的杆就像他年轻的腰身,现在蜘蛛在上面织了一张大网,忽闪忽闪的。椽眼处,成了麻雀一家的窝,它们天不亮就叽叽喳喳的,为一 He is old. Like a multi-year tool. The handle of the implements bent like a waist, and the mottled rust was the chapped skin of his body. Occasionally a place shining brightly, was his eyes washed repeatedly with tears. He is no longer able to far-field farming, but still in the three low bungalow around the kind of small meals three meals a day. He picked up a basket of vegetables and looked up at the rafters in the room, the rafters that were planted by him that year, straight rods like his young waist, and now the spider weaves a big net on it, flickering. Rafah Department, became a sparrow nest, they are not bright on the twitter, for a