这些年来,我一直在用心细细地聆听着一种来自那遥远而美丽的天国的声音,那是爷爷的声音。在那个阴雨连绵的春末,爷爷静静地躺在冰冷的灵榻上安详地睡着,胸口没有呼吸的起伏,心脏没有跳动的声音。一切都归于荒寂的静默。泪珠落地的声音我听得清清楚楚,一颗,两颗,三颗……家人的泪珠落地溅出了无数颗细小而晶闪的碎钻,声音清脆而钝重,让人感到一种凛冽的刺痛。我没有和家人一起围守着将要入棺的爷爷,而是一个人静静地退了出去。刚刚被雨冲刷过的路面显得纤尘不染,我踏着刚刚泛绿就被雨滴打落的嫩叶默默 For years now, I’ve been listening attentively to the voice of a distant and beautiful heaven which is my grandfather’s voice. In that rainy late spring, my grandfather quietly lying on a cold couch serenely asleep, chest without breathing ups and downs, the heart did not beat the sound. Everything belongs to the silence of desolation. The sound of tears landed I heard clearly, one, two, three ... ... family tears splashing innumerable small but crystal diamonds, crisp and dull voice, people feel a kind of cold Stinging. I did not keep my grandfather going to the coffin with my family, but quietly retreated. The road just scoured by the rain seems dusty, I marvel at the green leaves just beaten by the rain drops silently leaves