一天的黄昏,从青藤上簌簌滚过的一阵雷雨给我们带来了一只鸟儿,然而,它已经气息奄奄,一动不动地紧闭着双眼面对着世界。哥哥伸出手碰了碰它的身体自语道:“一只死鸟,它死了。”就像以往的任何规矩一样,我们需要挖一个小坑,使这只小鸟进入生命的安然。干燥秋日的黄昏,掘坑的声音进入我的耳膜,借助于从上苍那里射出来的一丝丝光线,我看到了如同干 One evening, a thunderstorm rolling over the ivy brought us a bird, yet it was dying and motionless with both eyes confronting the world. Brother extended his hand and touched it and said to himself: “A dead bird, it’s dead.” Just like any of the rules of the past, we need to dig a small hole to make this bird enter the safe life . Dry autumn dusk, dug pit sound into my eardrums, with the help of a glimmer of light emerging from the sun, I saw as dry