故乡,就是那方田地、那洼水塘、那片林子;是那一条通向老屋的小路;是那些耕种着的、歇着晌的、田间玩闹着的老人们、小伙儿姑娘们、娃娃们。离家愈久,这些挥之不去的形象愈加清晰。耳旁响着的,是那田间某棵高树上风吹枝叶的声音,或是掠过玉米地边,闪过那泛着鹅黄色叶片发出的尖锐风声。就是这片土地和这里劳作生息的人们,让我的心中永远沉 Hometown, that side of the field, that depression in the pond, that piece of woods; is that a trail leads to the old house; is that those who cultivate, rest for a long time, the old man playing in the field, boys and girls, Dolls. The longer the time away from home, these lingering image more clear. The sound of the branches of leaves of a certain high tree in the fields, or the sharp wind of the goose-yellow leaves flashed through the ears of the ears. It is this land and people working here, let my heart forever Shen