那是二月底的早晨,浓雾覆盖着群山,夜晚浑浑莽莽的。家乡的土路已变成光滑的水泥路面。道路两旁的橡胶树此刻正积蓄着能量,树林寂静无声,显得黝黑深远。道路下方的河水也消停了它的声音,闷闷地流淌。一道亮光在这弯曲的山路上缓慢行驶,借着微弱的灯光,父亲才能在浓雾中开出一条路来。整座大山里,只听得到摩托车发出突突突的引擎声。 It was the morning of February, thick fog covered the mountains, the night is muddy. Hometown dirt roads have become smooth cement road. Rubber trees on both sides of the road are now accumulating energy, silent woods, appears dark and far-reaching. The river below the road also suspended its voice, muffled flow. A bright light slowed down the curvy mountain road, and with faint light, my father could find a way in the thick fog. Throughout the mountains, only to hear the motorbike sudden bursts of engine sound.