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桂花糕

 二维码 38
发表时间:2020-10-09 21:18来源:作文网址:http://zw56789.com

曲折的长街,幽深的小巷,青石路,雕花窗,瓦楞搭起的屋顶像鱼尾那样高高翘起,流淌着黑瓦质朴的光泽,消失在一片浓密的海棠树中。每当蝉鸣响起的季节,小镇里就飘着一阵阵童年清甜的桂花香,制作桂花糕,一直是这里的传统。


当大人们都忙家务的时候,我便去找邻家的小女孩玩儿。她比我大两岁,经常穿一件小红褂子,编着麻花辫,一笑起来,眼睛就像被清水浸过的黑葡萄。小时候我常常像小尾巴一样跟在她身后,一口一个甜甜的“姐姐”,这主要是因为她有一件让我十分羡慕和渴望的手艺——她会做桂花糕


我总能看见她娴熟地把一粒粒圆润雪白的糯米磨成粉,揉成团儿,再优雅地浸一浸水,配上细碎的桂花,就成了小巧玲珑的翠玉了。那丝丝缕缕的香气小虫子一般钻进我的心里,让我的心痒痒的。禁不住这诱惑,我又跑进她们家的小院。“呦!小馋猫又来啦?”她冲我咧嘴一笑,递上一块刚出炉的糕点。我迫不及待地一口咬下去,丝丝缕缕的粘糯在我唇间缠绵,晕开绵长细腻的清甜,像一朵春日的阳光,唤醒我沉眠的味蕾。我享受地闭上眼睛,听见她的笑声也是桂花一样的甜,在我耳旁回荡:“哈哈,这么爱吃,我以后教你做吧!”我轻轻点一点头,心间洋溢芬芳:“明年,明年我就跟你学!”



时光过得飞快,可是已经等不到第二年了。我即将跟随父母去往更繁华也更陌生的地方,分别,就在眼前了。那是个溢满月光的夜晚,我整装待发,她却忽然跑过来,袖口还沾着星星点点的糯米粉。“再吃一块桂花糕吧!”那小巧的晶莹透亮的糕点被她捧在手中,泛着桂花轻轻柔柔的暖黄,月光从它上面流淌过去,用自己的银线织成流光的锦缎,将它裹挟,让它泛着那样轻盈、光滑、质朴而皎洁的光。我一口咬下去,眼泪却一下子跌落出来。她轻轻地冲我笑笑,小手拂过我的面颊,带走泪水却又留下了些许面粉。当时我的脸一定很花很花,所以她才会说:“看看你的样子,真像只小花猫!”我们都笑了,眼中也都有闪闪烁烁的光芒。“要回来啊,小妹妹!我教你做桂花糕!”我很用力很用力地点了点头。她使劲朝我挥手,一直到再也看不见彼此的身影。


后来我总能看到那样一个红衣小人儿朝我招手,可一回过神来,她又不见了,连那柔柔的桂花甜,也不见了。如今我的故乡已被一片片旅店客栈和开发区取代,而邻家小姐姐,也去了国外念书。我再不曾吃到那样纯粹的美食了,我也再不曾遇到那样单纯朴实的女孩。


那些缓慢而优雅的东西,已经是这个时代渐行渐远的旧梦了。可同时我们也是那些古老记忆的载体,用心灵承载感动,用眼睛继承善良,并且不变地追寻,那些单纯的生活就再一次活色生香。


连同那浓浓的桂花香,在我的追忆中愈加清晰,凝成永不遗失的美好,飘在我心上。


参考翻译:

The long and winding streets, deep alleys, bluestone roads, carved windows, and corrugated roofs are raised up high like fishtails, flowing with the rustic luster of black tiles, disappearing in a thick crabapple tree. Whenever the cicadas scream, there is a burst of sweet osmanthus fragrance from childhood in the town. Making osmanthus cakes has always been a tradition here.


When the adults are busy with housework, I go to the little girl next door to play. She is two years older than me. She often wears a little red gown, braided in twists, and when she smiles, her eyes are like black grapes soaked in water. When I was a child, I often followed her behind her like a little tail, taking a bite of a sweet "sister", mainly because she has a craft that I admire and desire-she can make sweet-scented osmanthus cake.


I can always see her skillfully grind the round and snow-white glutinous rice into powder, knead it into a ball, soak it elegantly, and add it with finely chopped sweet-scented osmanthus to form a small and exquisite jade. The tiny scent of worms penetrated into my heart and made my heart itch. Unable to help this temptation, I ran into their courtyard again. "Yeah! The little cat is here again?" She grinned at me, and handed a piece of freshly baked pastry. I can't wait to bite it down, the sticky glutinous lingering between my lips, fainting the long and delicate sweetness, like a spring sun, awakening my sleepy taste buds. I closed my eyes with enjoyment, and heard her laughter is as sweet as osmanthus, echoing in my ears: "Haha, I love to eat so much, I will teach you to do it later!" I nodded gently, my heart filled with fragrance: "Next year, next year I will learn from you!"



Time flies quickly, but it hasn't been the second year. I'm about to follow my parents to a more prosperous and unfamiliar place, and the separation is in sight. It was a moonlit night, and I was ready to go, but she suddenly ran over, the cuffs were still stained with glutinous rice flour. "Eat another piece of sweet-scented osmanthus cake!" The small crystal clear pastry was held in her hand, glowing with the gentle warm yellow of sweet-scented osmanthus, moonlight flowing past it, woven into a flowing brocade with her own silver thread. Wrap it, let it glow with such light, smooth, simple and bright light. I bit it down, but tears fell all of a sudden. She smiled softly at me, her little hand brushed my cheek, taking away the tears but leaving a little flour. At that time, my face must be very flowery, so she said: "Look at you, you really look like a small cat!" We all laughed, and there were twinkling lights in our eyes. "I want to come back, little sister! I will teach you how to make sweet-scented osmanthus cakes!" I nodded vigorously. She waved at me vigorously until she could no longer see each other.


Later, I could always see such a little man in red waving at me, but once she came to my senses, she was gone again, even the soft sweet-scented osmanthus. Now my hometown has been replaced by a piece of hotels and inns and development zones, and my sister next door has also gone to study abroad. I have never eaten such pure food again, and I have never met such a simple and simple girl.


Those slow and elegant things are already the old dreams of this era. But at the same time, we are also the carriers of those ancient memories, carrying the touch with our hearts, inheriting the kindness with our eyes, and pursuing them unchangingly. Those simple lives will once again come alive.


Together with the strong scent of osmanthus, it became clearer in my remembrance, condensed into a beauty that will never be lost, floating in my heart.


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