消失的田野

作者:董芷文人气:1441更新:2021-07-13 08:00:08

屋后的围墙外有一小片田野。我愿意为这块有水,有树,有菜地 ,还有电线杆的土地命名为田野------一个种植空阔感与丰收感的地方 。
  
  放眼望去,一条长长的沟渠,躺在田野的怀里。阳光下能看得清水在流动。喜欢看流动着的水 ,仿佛生命在欢腾 。沟渠的两边,窄窄的平地上是一畦一畦的的菜地,附近居民开垦出来。绿绿的 ,生机盎然。
  
  曾经在下雪粒的午后,用手机拍下它的样子,给远方的友人看 。从赣北小山村走出来的友人在S城打工十多年 ,在南方的繁华之地,在灯红酒绿的应酬之中,他是否会偶尔想起老家的那片金黄而朴实的田野。而田野对这个漂泊不羁的游子在冥冥之中还没有一种召唤感?
  
  7岁以前 ,在那个生我养我的赣中偏北的村庄 ,有一块属于我们的田野。父亲那时在镇上工作,在宣传队说快板写宣传稿,以笔杆讨生活 。母亲在乡下带着我和哥 ,向土里刨食。因为有哥,我几乎没有干过农活。比我大5岁的哥却是田里来地里去,咬着牙什么活都干 。一次 ,哥的肩膀因挑担而磨得红肿,扁担放上去肩膀就痛,于是在母亲喊他干活时 ,哥把扁担一扔,蹲在地上嚎啕大哭 。母亲眼眶也红了,但生活的艰辛与磨难让她没有太多的耐心去安慰去抚摸那些凌厉的伤痛。母亲捡起扁担 ,训斥道:不想吃这个苦,你就攒劲读书考出去。
  
  从小的训导让我和哥牢记:读书是我们唯一的出路 。那年暑假,哥初中毕业 ,父亲带着我们回老家双抢。虽然那时我们已在城里读书 ,但除了父亲,我们仍是农村户口,不是真正意义上的城里人。村庄里还有我们的一块土地 ,等着我们耕耘、收获 。
  
  哥被师范录取的消息仿佛一把火炬,点燃了整个乡村整个黑暗。那晚,父亲与伯父说了半宿的话。他俩低低的说话声让我想起夜晚两只触角碰在一起的昆虫在窃窃私语 。喜悦与如释重负让人分外轻松。隔壁的我 ,睡了又醒,醒了又睡。心满意足 。
  
  乡村的田野离我们的生活越来越远,直到最后 ,从我们的视线完全消失。同田野一起消失的,还有我的乡音。其实,乡音未忘 ,只是悄悄隐藏在舌根后,往下咽 。
  
  说到田野,不能不说到长工出身的祖父-----一个在田野上构筑人生梦想的人 。祖父彻底老去了 ,他的老屋也因白蚁的侵蚀而贱卖。不忍用风烛残年四个字来形容身边的任何一个亲人。高大、结实的生命也一样会萎缩 ,这让我感到莫名的悲哀而又无能为力 。90多岁的祖父,拄着拐杖也走不动了,更别说去田野里劳作。祖父从田野里消失了。
  
  祖父经常坐在一个地方发呆 ,木然而又迟钝 。这么老的人,他的体内还残存着多少对人世的记忆?祖父曾是村里公认的种田种地的一把好手。他堆的草垛风吹也不会倒,他种的水稻谷粒饱满 , 他种的南瓜又大又甜。那时走进老屋厅堂,总有一排南瓜赫赫摆了两条凳 。这是田野馈赠给祖父的果实,是祖父无尽的安慰与荣光。
  
  而现在 ,他再也不能像以前那样戴着草帽或是斗笠,穿着草鞋,扛着锄头 ,微笑地走向他的金色田野。他的田地已经交给六七十岁的子辈去打理,孙辈都在外地打工 。再丰茂的田野也挽留不住年轻人远走高飞的心。让祖父躬耕一生的田野,终有一天会和祖父一样不可避免地荒芜消失吧。
  
  他的胸前围系着小孩子才用的兜兜 ,滑稽的让人想笑 ,又想哭 。偶尔有恐惧掠住他浑浊的眼神,也许他也感觉到了生命之河的飞速枯竭?他的活动范围越来越小,从田野到屋内 ,最终会沉睡到一方早已选好的窄窄的泥土里,永远躺着,不管白天还是黑夜 。
  
  偶尔回乡村 ,再也见不到最初的那片田野。一座座工业城拔地而起,巨大的烟囱冒着黑黑的浓烟,笼罩在并不辽阔的田野上空。在现代工业的围剿之下 ,田野一步步走向没落 。
  
  在我们老了的时候,能否在钢筋水泥铸成的坚硬而冰冷的世界里找到一小块柔软的泥土做田野,种花种草种春风 ,安放我们悲伤的灵魂。

英译版本:

There is a small field outside the wall behind the house. I am willing to have water, there is a tree, a vegetable place, and the land of the electric pole is named field ------ a place where the air is grouped and the feeling of harvest.

Looking at it, a long ditch is lying on the field of the field. It can be seen in the sun in the flow. I like to watch the flow of water, as if life is jubilant. On both sides of the ditch, the narrow horizon is a dietary vegetable field, nearby residents open. Green green, vitality.

Once the afternoon of the snow granules, I took the way with my mobile phone, and I saw the distant friend. From the friends who came out from the Yinbei Village for more than ten years, in the bustling place in the south, he will occasionally think of the golden and simple fields of the old home in the future of the green wine green. The field has no call in the midst of this wandering.

Before 7 years old, there was a field belonging to our field in the northern part of the north of China. The father worked in the town at the time, and the propaganda team said that the return publication was written in the pen. The mother took me with my brother in the countryside, graph to the soil. Because there is a brother, I have almost no running farm. More than 5 years old, I was in Tani, biting something living. Once, the brother's shoulder was ground to red swelling because of the charity, and the palm was painful. When the mother shouted him to work, the brother threw the palery, squatting on the ground. The mother is also red, but the hardships of life and the hardships make her not much patience to comfort and touch those fierce pain. The mother picked up the pole and reprimanded: I don't want to eat this bitter. You will study it.

From a small training, let me and brother: Reading is our only way out. That year, I graduated from the middle of the brothers. My father took us back to my hometown. Although we have read in the city, in addition to your father, we are still rural households, not in the real city. There is also a land in the village, waiting for us to work, gain.

The news of the brother is admitted to the teacher seems to be a torch, igniting the entire countryside. That night, my father told the uncle to say half-hour. Their low voice reminds me of the insects that have been touched together in the night. Joy is relaxed and relaxed with if you have a negative. I am separated from the next door, I wake up again, wake up again.sleep. Mandarin.

The country field is getting farther and farther away from our lives until finally, from our line of sight completely disappear. The same field disappears, and there is my hometown. In fact, the hometowns have not forgotten, just quietly hidden behind the tongue, swallow.

Speaking of the fields, can't talk about the grandfather of the long-worker ----- a person who built life in the field. Grandfather is completely old, and his old house is also sold by the erosion of termites. I can't bear to use the four words of the contest to describe any relatives around you. High, strong life is also shrinking, which makes me feel inexplicably sorrowful and powerless. The grandfather of the 90-year-old, can't walk with cane, let alone go to the field. Grandfather disappeared from the field.
"Grandfather often sits in a place to live in a place, and it is slightly slow. Such an old man, how many memories of human world is still there? Grandfather used to be a good hand in the village. His pile of grass fits will not fall, and the rice valley of him is full, and the pumpkin of him is big and sweet. At that time, I walked into the old house hall, there is always a row of pumpkin Heiki to put two stools. This is the fruit of the field gift to the grandfather, is the endless comfort and glory.

And now, he can't wear a straw hat or fight, wear a sandwear, squat, smile to his golden field. His fields have been handed over to the six or seventeen children to take care, and the grandchildren work in the field. The rich fields will also keep the young people away from the high flying heart. Let the grandfather who cultivated the field of life, and one day will inevitably disappear like the grandfather.

His chest ladder, a little child, the funny people, I want to cry. Occasionally, fear, looting his turbidism, maybe he also felt the flying exhaustion of the river of life? His activity ranges less and smaller, from the fields to the house, will eventually sleep to a narrow dirt, never lying, no matter whether day or night.

Occasionally returned to the countryside, and he couldn't see the original field of field. The huge chimney has a dark smoke, and the huge chimney is shrouded over the fields that are not vast. Under the encirclement of modern industries, the fields of the field were going to fall.

When we are old, you can find a small soft soil in the hard and ice-free world of the reinforced cement to make a field, plant a grass spring breeze, place our sad soul.

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