村庄几缕清烟在长满褶皱的旱烟袋上缭绕。曾经的追求,是一头牛,几把犁耕出来的土地。贫瘠的黄土地把他们的心血和汗水悉数收藏,结出的是挂在枝头上沉甸甸的果子。他们的笑,爽朗中又带有几分沧桑。几载风雨后的追求,就在眼前,是那么真,似阳光下古铜色的皮肤。一盏油灯,独自点亮这个漆黑的夜,是那么单薄。单薄的就像桌前眉头紧锁的女孩,漂亮的笔杆,渗出了手汗。抬头,望见那个忙碌的身影。她想,她会张开梦想的翅膀,飞向那个荼靡花开的彼岸。 Several wisps of smoke in the village wind around the wrinkled bongs. Once the pursuit of a cow, a few plowed out of the land. Barren loess all their hard work and sweat collection, the result is hung on the branches of the heavy fruit. Their laughter, hearty and with some vicissitudes of life. After a few storms of the pursuit, just in front, so true, like the sun under the bronze skin. An oil lamp, alone lit the dark night, is so thin. Thin like a girl frown at the front desk, beautiful pen, exudation sweat hands. Looked up, I saw the busy figure. She thought, she will open the wings of dreams, flew to the other side of the popular flower.