公衙里吏役们已散去很久了,范仲淹还坐在公案旁沉思。蜡台上的烛光一跳一跳的,从烛心流出的蜡汁层层地凝在烛柄周遭,象饥民们流不尽的眼泪。从墙角暗处传来有气无力的饿鼠们咝咝的叫声,仿佛在追赶。有一两只从范公的脚边跑过去了,其中一只竟触到了他的脚踝。这些小东西,白天在洞里不敢出来,天一擦黑,便被饥肠擂动的鼓声赶出洞来。有的几天寻不到一粒粮,它们只好结队走出野外,去啃几口饿死的腐尸。 Officials in the office clerks have dispersed for a long time, Fan Zhongyan sat next to the case thinking. Candle light on the stage of the paraffin, jumping from the candlestick layers of condensed into the candle around the handle, like the endless flow of tears of famine. Came from the dark corner of the impatient hungry mice shy, as if chasing. One or two ran from Fan Gong’s feet, one of them touching his ankle. These little things, dared not come out in the cave during the day, when the sky shined, they were driven out of the hole by the drums of starvation. Some days can not find a grain of grain, they had to fleet out of the field, go to eat a few mouthfuls of starved carrion.