没有老人的乡村,不是真正的乡村,就像一个身体没有了灵魂,就如瓦房上没有了炊烟,就像篱笆内的菜地里没了碧绿的韭菜、青绿的豆角,就如蒲扇边再也没了老祖母的故事。1乡村里,老人已渐渐减少。这些老人,笼着袖子,白发如雪,沿着门前的小路越走越远,一直走入晨雾中,渐渐被雾遮住了笑容,遮住了身影。他们的说话声,还有咳嗽声,在雾中越去越远,已经渐渐听不见了。深深的岁月,最终淹没了他们。时间老去,乡村仍在,黄昏的 There is no elderly village, not a real country, like a body without a soul, like the tile roof without smoke, like the fence in the green leaves without leeks, green beans, like a panda fan and then No old grandmother’s story. In the countryside, the number of the elderly has gradually decreased. These old people, with their sleeves and white hair like snow, walked farther and farther down the path in front of the house and walked into the mist. They gradually covered their faces with smog and covered their faces. Their voices, as well as coughs, farther and farther in the fog, have gradually disappeared. Deep years eventually drowned them. Time goes by, the village is still, twilight