我的家乡是一个煤区,小煤窑纵横在青翠的山脚下,往往几个星期之内,山脚下,田埂旁,就能看到几个裹着尸体的黑布包,弯曲,蜷缩,有烧焦的气味和六月天里发霉的臭味。哭喊的女人、流泪的孩子,笼罩着那个山脚下的村庄的是一片黑暗。死者尽是些青壮年,家庭的支柱,孩子的父亲,父母的主要赡养者。常常没有预兆,蕴含着活力的躯体被埋在地下,化作一些不愿埋在地下的魂灵。 My hometown is a coal district. The small coal mines are at the foot of the verdant hills. Within a few weeks, at the foot of the mountain, beside the fields, you can see several black cloths wrapped in corpses, curled, crouched and burned Coke smell and mildew smell in June. Crying woman, child in tears, shrouded in the darkness of the village at the foot of the mountain. The dead are all young adults, the pillars of the family, the children’s fathers and parents’ primary carers. Often, there is no warning that a living body is buried underground and turned into souls that are unwilling to bury underground.