世界像粪。我用力想呀想呀才想起原来像是粪。我爹和到寿的老猪一样儿,哼哼着爬上山梁来,日头一个冷噤,就哆哆嗦嗦发不出黄光了。我窝在落日里屙屎,窝着想着睡了过去,看见从城市来的那个女人,坐在爹的腿上,撩起她的红绸裙子来,说年月里物价涨到了天上,你给我那丁点东西,刚好够给一家人添一套衣裳。城里的女人跟我爹要那样东西时候,总是坐在爹的腿上,撩起她的裙儿,笑得红花烂开。我死怕她撩她的红裙,大腿上 The world is like dung. I tried hard to think of it before it was like feces. My father and the same as the old pig to live, climbed to the mountain ridge to hum, a chilly sun, trembling on the shivering. I woke up in the sunset, I was thinking of falling asleep, I saw the woman from the city, sitting on my father’s leg, lifted her red silk dress, saying that in the months the price rose to the sky, and you gave My little thing, just enough for the family to add a set of clothes. When the woman in town wanted something like that of my father, he always sat on his father’s leg, lifted her skirt, and smiled like a saffron. I’m afraid she will pull her red skirt, thighs