老水车你总是站在河边,咿咿哑哑地歌唱着、旋转着,数着流水,数着岁月,旋转得太阳多少次升起,旋转得月亮多少次沉落。如同深山的泉水般永远汩汩地流淌,如同老水牛那样永远默默地耕作。你辛勤地把清粼粼的水提到田里,让秧苗长成一片碧绿,又扬花吐穗,直到金黄色的糯谷沉甸甸地垂下了头,于是田野间响遍丰收的欢歌…… Old waterwheel you always stood by the river, singing mute dumb, spinning, counting the water, counting the years, rotating the sun how many times to rise, how many times the moon revolves. Like the spring of the mountains, flowing forever and quietly, as old buffaloes do, silently cultivating. You diligently put the sparkling water into the fields, let the seedlings grow into a green, and blooming spit, until the golden waxy valley plunged heavily, so the field rang the harvest song ... ...