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留守一古老的石头乌云样密布,黑黝黝的胴体,砌成家园。锯齿形山峰折叠,弯曲,似一溜褴褛衣衫,在肩上披着,逶迤为岸。两山峡谷间,闪一道缝,那便是“巷”了。“乌衣巷”:人们这样呼唤。离乡背井的人,外出打工的人,便是从这巷口流出,流成一条默然的河。夕阳淡淡地,宛如一种依恋,抚拍着离人的肩。离乡背井的人,外出打工的人,却不曾回过头来,望一眼石屋上空漂浮的烟。二大汗淋漓的父亲,满头银发的父亲,还在乌石垒起的小屋门口,坐着,一言不发。
Left behind an ancient stone clouds, swarthy carcass, brick home. Zigzag peaks folded, curved, like a ragged clothes, dressed in shoulders, 逶 迤 for the shore. Two mountain gorge, flash a seam, it is “Lane ”. “Wuyi Lane ”: people call like this. People from their homes, go out to work, is from this alley outflow, flow into a silent river. Sunset faintly, like a kind of attachment, stroking the shoulders from the human. People who left their homes and went out to work did not turn around and looked at the floating smoke over the stone houses. Two sweaty father, silver-haired father, still in the door of the cottage hut, sit, without saying a word.