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一只温暖的手抓住了我的手腕。不像是梦,我睁开了眼睛。是妻子巴哈尔古丽60岁的手,漂亮的戒指说话了:不要睡了,家乡到了。飞机开始降落了,椭圆形的小窗口,把绚烂的伊犁大地浓缩在了我的眼前。银亮的伊犁河水,诱惑上天的白云,亲切流向口岸的方向,像千年的酥油,滋养哺育我们的大地。我们的童年,青春时代的月光和鲜花,都曾是这条养育我们的爱河的朋友,是我们血脉的见证。可以听到飞机发动机坚强骄傲的声响了,像自信的铁匠敲打用具的声音。我想起了
A warm hand caught my wrist. Not like a dream, I opened my eyes. His wife Baghal Guri 60-year-old hand, beautiful ring spoke: do not sleep, home to. The plane began landing, the oval window, the gorgeous Ili concentrated in the ground before my eyes. Silver Yili Ili River water, the temptation of the sky of clouds, flowing toward the direction of the port, like millet gourd nourish the feeding of our land. Our childhood, the youthful moonlight and flowers, have all been friends in this love-raising, testimony to our bloodline. You can hear the strong and proud voice of the aircraft engine, like a confident blacksmith beat the sound of the appliance. I remember