一叶典型的鲁北小屋泊在苍茫夜色里。一轮月亮出出没没,喧哗而起伏。远处黄河沉沉涌动的声音隐隐传来,而那紫红色的窗棂里正明亮着礼拜的歌声……青龙街兀自蜿蜒如蛇,两个摇曳的身影在月光里渐渐消融。两旁的老屋既高又陡,鼠灰色的影子沉沉下投。屋顶上明明暗暗冻结着神秘的亮光。一颗瘦硬的小草直直立在塔形的脊尖,一动也不动。土坯墙上飘忽着一高一低的影子,满街筒子遂听得步履空洞的回声。已是腐烂的柴垛散发出潮湿清冽的的气味。谁家门楼下的小鸟悄悄嘀咕了一句什么,而柔美的歌声正渐渐升起于状若风琴的小屋,浑然于无边的月色中,照临他们。 A typical Lubei lodges parked in the vast night. A moon out no noisy and ups and downs. In the distance, the sound of the surging waves of the Yellow River came faintly, while the purplish window was lit with worship songs. The Tsing Long Street, meandering like a snake, gradually melted in the moonlight. Both sides of the old house is both high and steep, gray rat shadow cast under the sink. The roof clearly secretly frozen mysterious light. A thin, stiff grass erect in the tower-shaped spine, motionless. Adobe wall drifting with a high and one low shadow, full of arms then heard the hollow echo. It is rotten woodpile exudes the smell of dampness. Whose little bird under the door quietly muttered something, and the soft singing is gradually rising from the organ-like hut, totally boundless boundless moonlight, according to them.