清晨,街角的拐弯处,浮现出一个穿粗布衬衫、黑裤子,系着蓝色围裙的白发苍苍的身影。他那佝偻的背上挑着一副沉重的担子,担子里铺着白色的塑料布,他是卖麦芽糖的老爷爷。我和爸爸从他的身边经过,听到他用沙哑、低沉的浦城话吆喝着“:麦芽糖!好吃的麦芽糖!”这位老爷爷年纪很大了,挑着那么重的单子,每走一步都很吃力。没人买他的糖,可他还是坚持不懈地吆喝着。 Early in the morning, the corner of the corner, emerge out of wearing a coarse shirt, black pants, wearing a blue apron gray-haired figure. His heavy back lugs a heavy burden, covered in white plastic sheeting, and he is the grandfather who sells maltose. My dad and I passed by his side and heard him crying with a husky, lowered Pucheng dialect: “Maltose! Good Maltose!” The grandfather was very old and lugged so heavy a list each Take a step is very difficult. No one bought his sugar, but he still shouts tirelessly.