肩上扛着一把铁锨,常常在村庄里转悠时,就看到许多短短长长、窄窄宽宽的路。路,把家家户户连起来,把村子与村子连起来,像身上的毛细血管,使村庄的肌体充满着生机,充满着活力。一条条的路,跟那些柴垛、牛哞狗吠、坟墓、炊烟的味道、泥土、架子车、孩子的哭声、房屋、牧歌、清真寺、庄稼地、祖先、风霜雪雨、土炕等等等等,组成了一个村庄,构成了一个村庄丰富的内容。而路,是神经、是脉管、是气息、是人与人之间坑坑窝窝的交情,是历史与现实长长短短的牵挂。一个人老了,力气用完了,眼睛变得浑浊,骨头散了架,就与农活断绝了关系,拄一把榆木柺棍,坐在檐下静静地晒太阳。 Carrying a shovel on his shoulders, he often saw many short, long, narrow and wide roads as he wandered the village. Road, every family and every household together, the village and the village together, like the capillaries, so that the body of the village full of vitality, full of vitality. The roads, with those woodpile, bulldog barking, grave, the smell of smoke, dirt, scooters, the crying of children, houses, pastoral, mosques, crops, ancestors, frost and snow, Tukang and so much more , Formed a village, constitutes a village rich content. The road, is a nerve, is a vessel, is breath, is the pit between the nest of friendship between people, is the history and reality of long and short care. When one is old, his strength runs out, his eyes become cloudy, the bones are scattered, and the relationship with the farm is cut off, and an Elm walking stick is sitting under the eaves and quietly basking in the sun.