提篮春光看妈妈

午后的阳光碾碎了洁白的栀子花瓣，落下一地斑驳的清影。我躺在安乐椅中，微弱的呼吸。

In the afternoon, the sun crushed the white gardenia petals and left a mottled shadow. I was lying in an easy chair, breathing faintly.

我想，我是老了吧：我的脸好像核桃一样粗糙不平了，头发白了，牙齿掉了，身上布满深褐色的斑点。我低头，看那些松软的泥土，或许，不久我会与他们融为一体了。卧龙跃马终不过黄土啊!

I think I'm old: my face is rough like a walnut, my hair is white, my teeth are off, and my body is covered with dark brown spots. I look down at the soft soil. Maybe I will be one with them soon. Wolong Yuema is no more than loess!

此刻，我的心里泛起了一圈圈的涟漪，曾几何时，那个被称之为故乡的地方，也有这样温暖的阳光。也有这样一片飘着芳香的泥土。我仿佛又看到了家门前的青山绿水，闻到老屋厨房里飘出的饭香……。

At this moment, my heart has a circle of ripples, once upon a time, that place known as hometown, also has such warm sunshine. There is also such a piece of fragrant soil. I seem to see the green mountains and waters in front of my house again, and smell the fragrance of rice in the kitchen of the old house.

依稀记得儿时的家园，青色瓦，黄土墙。屋里住着一位汉子，每日早出晚归。他喜欢叼着旱烟，坐在门槛上望着妻儿，一脸知足的神情。屋里的女人，也是起早贪黑操持着家务，把家里打理得井井有条—他们就是爹娘。

Vaguely remember the childhood home, blue tile, loess wall. There is a man in the room who goes out early and returns late every day. He likes to sit on the threshold and look at his wife and children with a contented look. The women in the house, who are also in charge of housework from morning to night, keep the house in order - they are parents.

依稀记得儿时的顽皮，摸鱼捉虾，掏鸟蛋，玩伴们拿着竹竿和树枝，在山坡上追逐嬉闹。

I vaguely remember the naughtiness of childhood, fishing for shrimp, pulling out bird eggs, playmates with bamboo poles and branches, chasing and frolicking on the hillside.

依稀记得战火烧到家乡的情景，我告诉爹娘，我要抗战救国时，爹和娘的眼圈都红了。这是我有生第一次看到眼前的汉子——我的爹如此的脆弱。油灯下，娘将一滴滴眼泪缝进了新制的衣裳。

Vaguely remember the scene when the war burned to my hometown. I told my parents that their eyes were red when I wanted to fight against Japan and save the country. This is the first time in my life that I have seen the man in front of me - my father is so fragile. Under the oil lamp, my mother sewed a drop of tears into the new clothes.

依稀记得，那个梳着两条辫子，双眼通红，如丁香一般结着愁怨的姑娘，站在村口挥手，声声唤着早些回来。这声音，直到远去的亲人身影逐渐模糊，才化在风中。

Vaguely remember, the girl with two braids, red eyes, like cloves, standing at the entrance of the village, waving and calling for early return. This voice, until the distant relatives figure gradually blurred, only in the wind.

一晃几十年，弹指一挥间，当我随着军队踏上这片被称为祖国宝岛土地的那一刻，我知道——家乡，已离我远去!

For decades, with a flick of my fingers, when I set foot on this land called the treasure island of our motherland with the army, I knew that my hometown was far away from me!

我带着终身的遗憾，我以为我再也回不到那个老屋了，几年前的两岸实现了间接三通，我没有回去。物是人非，我不知回去寻些什么。接下来的，台商第一次包机去探亲，我没有回去，因为，我的亲人早巳化作尘土……

With a lifelong regret, I thought I would never go back to that old house. A few years ago, the two sides of the Taiwan Straits realized indirect three links, and I did not go back. Things are different. I don't know what to look for. Next, for the first time, Taiwanese businessmen chartered a plane to visit their relatives. I didn't go back because my relatives had already turned to dust

如今；我老了，将不久于世了。故土却牵动我的神经，毕竟她是生我养我的地方啊!是我此生依恋的地方啊!

Now, I am old and will soon be in the world. My hometown affects my nerves. After all, it is the place where I was born and raised. It is the place where I am attached in this life!

我愿回到那个小山村，躺在母亲的坟旁，就如落叶归于土地一样……。

I would like to go back to that small mountain village and lie beside my mother's grave, just as fallen leaves return to the land.

风筝飞的再高，总有一根红线系着，落叶飘得再远，总要归于根啊!

No matter how high the kite flies, there will always be a red line tied to it. No matter how far the fallen leaves are, they will always belong to the root!

我愿在迟暮的某一天，永久地躺在那遥远的故乡的土地上，慢慢地，慢慢地，化为泥土………

I would like to lie on the land of my far away hometown one day, slowly, slowly, into the earth