Its might in the north wind blew my fluctuated, untenable. My little daughter, she still kept crying, I do not know how to face life without father and mother, as I do not know how to face the darkness without her.
I sigh, I saw far away a small piece of jujube forest, there are even more distant that the poor little village, and the familiar courtyard. There, I have many relatives there. They placed me miss, tied my homesickness. I have a hand, seems to be able to touch everything, but from so far away, far too could no longer arrive.
Snow and rained, the sky everywhere, and when I actually found an old friend of old, is bent over to feed their own flowers in front of the dog, his beard and eyebrows and sorrow of years become more white. If I'm alive, I am sure will be putting on airs, but I will not be so hard, but when they go out in the children were all sitting under a tree Laohuai entrance to the village, smoking in silence, facing the rugged piece of mountain meditation, thinking about my childhood, my Niangqin, there are those unfulfilled aspirations.
The front of the village I did not come to an end piece of the road, as if connected to the life and death, light and dark, it now seems more like a door that leads to nothingness. My grandparents must have seen it, and each will be here after all the dead, into a new beginning. But they have forgotten the past, or even remember who he is, how old, why will appear here.
Look, in my body, I selected the cemetery during his lifetime, now have a tombstone erected in the fresh yellow mound before, like a label, to make a summary of my past lives.
People think I'm dead, no one knew I never close your eyes in their moment to escape from his own, like the wind living, watching their villages and villagers, and the poor and wayward daughter, no longer could not say a word.
How strange the change, ah, I circled in their graves, looking at the little girl burst into tears, thinking of the distant branches of the courtyard the snow squeaking under the weight of the sound, thinking of dawn through the window the more to more light, silently projected on the wall of mottled time ......
Oh, now I do not make people fear the ghost, just an empty shell, and my sadness, derived from those who have disappeared or are disappearing things, such as the swirling snow, endless stretches.
A few fallen leaves to the memory of the depths of the journeyman, but I still remember, before his death he has overcome many of the demons, for example, bottles, small eye teeth under the acacia trees long with the girls, as well as sleepwalking and cataracts ... ...
The one with the small eye teeth girl, became the bane of my life and the Gate of Life, her hanging to me like a fairy, watching the young white-haired old man I became, and then withdraw to leave alone, the first I lie in my grave step and waited for me, swear at me again next life should change back to a handsome boy ......
She is real, and it is nothing, like a mixture, like a flu season tonsils, Zhonghuo my life. Now, she lay quietly beside me, silently, I do not know where Soul.
If, if there is next life, I want to be a superior carpenter, traveled thousands of miles to find a length CL Wood, now built a solid coffin, funerals were the norm long with a small eye teeth, she said there are those of sleep.
Gradually, it was getting dark down, my poor little daughter suffer the face of a pair of old grave deep knock-phase, three head, tears into the village, but it could not aware of eyes peering at me, and not the concerns and wishes .
Gradually a dark emotions can not go back, alone, rapping at my heart, unable to pronounce that sound.
When a group of unknown bird my view, the evening is much farther than planned, in order not to get lost, I kept looking up toward the sky; in the wind in order not to feel afraid, I was constantly toward the earth singing.
Miao Miao Xi who wind Xiaoxiao, Fiat's knife, ah, mountain grass, as the wind scattered in every possible way of love and hate the taste.
Burst after burst of the north wind flutter around, and I eventually give way and the soul of light snow in the cold, the dark curtain slowly fell, in the highlands come to an end, the withdraw through into the loess, the last look at the life of former ______ This is the accumulation of layers of the plateau, the yellow, so each layer the same, but the more inside, the more clean and more space ......
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