她的名字很多,诸如荠荠菜、枪刀菜、七七芽、刺刺芽、刺脚菜等,各种名字的背后都会有个带血的故乡。每次念叨,内心一种疼痛呼啸而过。揪心的疼痛中,过往的光和影就排山倒海地向我涌来。那个叫水芹的女子,我少年时的伙伴,赫然站在我跟前,手拿着小镰刀,挎着竹篮,奔跑在春天的阡陌上。她那水灵灵的笑,恰似我在《聊斋》里读到的婴宁的笑,清纯,不染尘埃,纯净得让你内心柔柔地喊疼。 Her name is many, such as shepherd’s purse, gun knife dish, seventy-seven buds, thorns buds, Crabapple, all behind a variety of names will have a bloody hometown. Every time I talk about, a pain roars past. Worried pain, the light and shadow of the past came to me in desperation. That woman called cress, my boyhood partner, impressively stood in front of me, holding a scythe in his hand, carrying a bamboo basket, ran in the spring paddy. Her water Lingling laugh, just as I read in “Liao Zhai” Yinning laugh, pure, do not dye the dust, pure so that your heart softly sore.