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又到清明节。春天就这么一夜之间染绿了千山万壑,人们在这样的时节踏青栽柳放风筝,尽吸这草木吐翠、姹紫嫣红的阳春气息。而我却没有如此闲适散淡的浪漫心境,迎着淅淅沥沥的春雨,任杜牧“清明时节雨纷纷,路上行人欲断魂”的诗句打湿心尖,思绪繁杂地匆匆南归,赶往故里山东郯城扫墓。娘守在老家盼我回去给爹的坟头添把土呢。爹撒手离开我们时才66岁,草枯又荣,无尽的思念伴随着我们已然度过9个春秋。他这一辈子吃过多少苦,遭过多少罪,就像他坟头上空的寒星数也数不清,任凭清风皓月擦拭隐痛。
Ching Ming Festival again. Spring so bright overnight dyed green mountains and rivers, people in this season will step out Liu Liu flying kites, make the best of this vegetation Tucui, colorful spring atmosphere. But I do not have such a leisurely romantic mood, facing the lush spring rain, Ren Du Mu “Qingming Festival rain have, on the road pedestrians want to break soul ” poem wet apical, thoughts and complex hurried Namche, rushed Hometown in Shandong Tan City grave. Mother keep my home looking forward to my father’s grave to add soil it. Daddy handed away when we are 66 years old, grass and Rong Rong, endless thoughts accompanied by we have spent nine Spring and Autumn. He had eaten so much bitterness throughout his life, how many sins he suffered, just as the number of cold stars above his grave was also countless, despite the breeze Qingyue wipe pain.