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午后的阳光透过一顶顶大树冠洒下一院子的斑驳。鸟鸣稀了。树上偶尔飘下一片叶子,落在地上,无声无息。土狗趴在院门口,眼睛微闭,树上倏地滴下一声鸟鸣,狗的耳朵立刻竖起,眼睛也睁开了,警觉地寻望一会,没了响动,又趴下了,微闭了眼睛。祖母盘腿坐在堂屋的大炕上捏着佛珠打盹儿。母亲靠在厢房的门槛上有一下没一下地做着针线。我不忍惊扰这份恬静,就坐在树墩上支起下巴捉摸院前储满古老传说的老槐树,数老屋土墙上大大小小的麻雀窝。
The sunshine in the afternoon sheds the mottling of a yard through a large crown of trees. Birds are thin. Occasionally floating a leaf on the tree, fell to the ground, silent. Dogs lying on the courtyard in front of the house, the eyes weakened, the tree on the ground to the sound of a drop of birdsong, the dog’s ears immediately erected, his eyes opened, alert looking for a while, no ring, and get on the ground, micro-closed Eyes. Grandmother cross-legged sitting in the hall of the kang holding Bead beads napping children. The mother did a little bit of needlework on the threshold of the wing. I could not bear to disturb this tranquility, sitting on the stump up Chin to seduce the ancient legend of the old tree stored in front of the house, the number of old and small houses on the wall of the house sparrow nest.