最近几年,我常常出入桑干河边岸边的一些老村。村子里人烟稀落,有的甚至空无一人,随处可见的窑洞破败不堪。某个春日,我发现那些老窑洞的顶上竟然生出了“白发”——一种当地人叫白草的植物——在风中苍凉地起伏。那一瞬间,我忽然觉得村庄也是有生命的,就像那些寂寥地行走在村庄内部的农人,会悄然老去。曾经,这些乡村蓬蓬勃勃,枝繁叶茂,就像养育我们 In recent years, I often visit some old villages along the banks of the Sanggan River. Sparsely populated villages, and some even empty, dilapidated caves everywhere. On a spring day, I found that the top of those old cave holes actually gave birth to “white hair” - a plant called white grass native to the locality - desolately undulating in the wind. That moment, I suddenly felt that the village is also a living, just as those who walk lonely in the village of farmers, will quietly grow old. Once upon a time, these villages were thriving and flourishing, just as nourishing us