麦青三月三月的阳光像马匹奔跑,跑过了一道道山梁、一条条河流,以神的名义抵达麦地。一望无垠的麦地,青青的麦秆,箭一样挺立,向着远方的雪山致敬。天空被打开,一面蓝蓝的纯纯的瓷镜,不时地飞过几只鸟儿,白白的羽片在海里游动。风掀动半尺厚的黄土。战栗的苏醒,随着一片宁静而泪光闪动。空气里的青麦,碧血的心脏,蕴藏着一颗月亮的光芒,鲜花和掌纹的秘密,抑或整座村庄。粘稠的绿,浓得化不开,静静地流淌,不 Mai Qing The March March sunshine ran like a horse and ran over a mountain road, a river of rivers, and arrived at Medina in the name of God. An expanse of cornfield, green straw, arrows stand upright, salute snowy mountains to the distance. The sky was opened, a pure blue porcelain mirror, flying from time to time a few birds, white vulture swimming in the sea. Wind tilt half a foot thick loess. The trembling wake, with a quiet and tears flashing. Green wheat in the air, the blood of the heart, contains a moonlight, flowers and palm prints of the secret, or the entire village. Thick green, thick, not flowing, quietly flowing, no