一我的故乡四川古蜀州黑石河两岸旧时出产“棒客”。那时我刚落草到人世,一睁眼,就看见村庄里许多佝偻的雄性背影。他们背脊朝天,面孔向下,古铜色的腰身被一根根无形的绳子缚住,行进在麦子、油菜与稻谷交替起伏的田野上。在城市的目光之外,他们沿着日、月、年蚁行,而时间又被生产队长锁在自家屋顶上的高音喇叭里。太阳露头,喇叭一声令下,他们就从一座座草房或瓦屋中出来,手中挥舞的农具随季节变换,或为长锄,或为短镰,或为颤悠悠的桑木扁担; One of my hometown ancient Sichuan Shu Shihe both sides of the old production “stick guest.” At that time I just landed to the world, eyes open, I saw many shameful males in the village back. Their backs, their faces turned down, their bronze waist bound by an invisible rope and marching through the alternating fields of wheat, rape and paddy fields. Outside the city’s gaze, they walked along the days of the month, the year, and the time captives locked in the loudspeakers on their roofs. Outcrops and trumpets came out of a hut or tile house, their waving implements changed with the seasons, or long hoes, or sickles, or shambles of mulberry wood;