Country (group article) prose essays

christosau

I.

Cloud tea to go back on afternoon dissatisfaction basket.

tea baskets, and tenements, as well as green tea. Mother standing time on the wall. Grab is not grab the hands of the new tea [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], a hope, a dream. Mother, ah, you really can dream.

will always make people feel something incredible, like memory.

in memory of the young, realize that that piece of scenery I ever realized that a landscape that belongs to the mother, there could be sultry feeling of place. I always stubbornly believe that eternal life is so, the mother is so ancient.

However, years later, I stood at the side, because his mother, serene, and tears.

Second,

old cattle. Father. Old cattle-like father. When the straw child

headed and open when the rape, when the new green has demonstrated the vitality of the earth.

the yellow ground, year after year, a hundred thousand turn back, never to go finish the plow channel children, gave his father the power of infinity.

Oh, father, his eyes filled with tears of chaos.

be, Who can say, this is not a joy

father owned the whole of the spring: the soft grass, the wind fresh, the trickle of water, the fragrance of flowers.

was clear that everything is as if the father can easily describe the plow down the palm-like!

Third,

endless smoke rings dispersion, as my grandfather rough life Ke Hum. Can only be measured with a pair of Melaleuca Dier.

smoked yellow teeth, blackened teeth, a pair of Melaleuca Dier worn pair.

straw yellow, yellowing of the fence rake, yellowing of hope. There are yellowing grandfather. By time, dust, rusting.

years.

the wind, blowing everywhere you haggard; a knife, engraved with your wrinkled. Is snow, falling on your head, become a sky of white hair.

Fourth,

two stones, because some small barriers, bite together, chew the beans, chew the whole grains, biting open a grandmother smile, biting open a big cock crow.

memory, homeland to so fresh a stone.

So often dreams of home.

dreamed of a grandmother, struggling to push the stone, hang in the mill turn round and round, one step off the night sky and a star. Grandma kept the spoon with food and night wear eyes, mouth and spit out the stone village milky dawn.

stone chewing rain, chewing years, chewing sweat and sighs, chewing life's hardships and sour.

Oh, memory of the stone, and today, suddenly 忽忽 to turn up, endless.

V.,

shoes. Mother made herself a pair of old shoes.
and handmade shoes.

mother's shoes, white Melaleuca at the end, black shoe uppers, white is all white, black is black, not something carved, without modification.

put my mother is satisfied that the old shoes, feet and become my foot.

people grew larger, much further down the road, step by step followed the old shoes, walking light arc, the sun step on the foot of the mountains and valleys step in Xiao Han deep and shadow step yourself with ... ...

other sun went down, so when the moon is shining, quietly rubbing the old shoes, quietly rubbing the old shoes measure of life, often thought of this long journey, but also that, over the mountains, not exactly the direction of home?
shoes and hand, leading to the direction of home!

VI,

rain curtain hung outside, barking out the sound of several more.

mother in one hand and soles, hand holds needles, lead the line, the line holding soles.

so many years, I climbed many mountains, and take a lot of road, and even have some old moon, vertigo of the mother, or against the wall, go in and pull out satisfied , the sole end of this pack was Melaleuca, Yan-Yan thick.

seven,

childhood is not located in the Water Village, but it really is the water lot. Mountains around the water, the water around the mountain. Mountains and rivers.

some days are always the joy of harvest.

carrying a bucket, carrying a bunch of nets, to the water, floating on the water bucket, Happy in barrels.

nets and fish for fish [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], shrimp and children, children ... ...

turtle miss is the organ in the years plucked with the fingers, passionately devoted a lengthy undulating melody.

miss is the salvage of gold yesterday, is a collection of memories.

VIII,

historic houses, carved windows, wind erosion of the years.

quiet but not luxurious, elegant and scholarly spit.

carved windows, draw a broken day, Chu Chen off the fan, left the world and independent.

as quiet, sit this one ages situation.

people were pulled out hustle and bustle. An inexplicable force. Any agitation to force the cells, all quiet.

Yes, staring a carved window, that is [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], to listen to a life, all the warm breath of life.

September,

lanes deep, seems to be no end.

wheelbarrow like a head of cattle aged.

do not know who Tuizhao Che [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], or the car pulled people.

that distant years, there have been many people pushing a wheelbarrow through the alley from this?

people came and went, silently.

However, those who lived after all, is to leave marks.

ten,

fields covered with golden yellow. See also the rice barrel.

hands Jinzuan a rice, upward swing too far, go to the dump bed of rice barrel.

rice whereabouts. Harvest come.

such a scenario is realistic, but also memory.

However, poetry is only in the memory to life.

real heavy and sighing, ah, in one fell swoop you can feel a wave of inter?

XI,

forced to, poured into the runner in the season of joy.

Valley runner shaking screen.

manufacturing wind.

grains have fallen.

far, near. Full, shriveled.

let the wind to identify false precision.

let the wind to identify the year's harvest.

wind ah.

the number of air-dried distant memory.

second,

chasing the sun haze, early climb up the hill.

warm sun on the earth, the cool breeze blowing soak into the depths heart.

a farmer. A flock of sheep.

farmer, a whip, a smiling face.

sheep, white, yellow, black, cheerful.

the mountains, there is no coming and going.

serene mountains.

inclusive cheerful mountain sheep farmer and free.