一两个人从长着油菜黄漫漫田地的尽头,一片婆娑的榆树林地走出来。林地里高坡处,几棵纤细而挺秀的小黄杨的后面,烟雾燎绕,隐约露出矮矮的水泥墙,石房子,石碑。他们走到两边满是波斯菊的路上,东张张西望望,像是在看什么,实际上是在透口气。那紫色的、红色的、浅蓝色的单片子波斯菊花,在纤纤的茎上,在那黄色的风吹涌下,飘摇不定。谁知道他们漫不经心的样子,是在做什么?要去哪儿?瘦瘦得葵花杆般的男人,手提着白褂子,穿件白背心,不停地用小白毛巾,掸着头上的灰,擦着灰色的脸。好像心丢了一样,东一脚,西一脚地瞎跺着,一会忽左, One or two people walked out of the vowel of the elm trees at the end of a long, rape-yellow field. Woodland in the high slope, a few slender and pretty little boxwood behind, lurking around, vaguely exposed low concrete walls, stone houses, steles. As they walked the two sides full of cosmos, they looked east-west, looking at what they were looking at and in fact breathe out. The purple, red, light blue monolithic cosmos flower was swaying on the slender stem of the yellow wind. Who knows what they carelessly do? Where are they going? The thin, sunflower-like man with a white gown, a white vest, a white towel, his head gray, Wiping the gray face. Seems to have lost the same heart, the East foot, West kicked blind, then suddenly left,