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祖孙之爱

 二维码 8
发表时间:2021-02-23 11:44

月光光,照地堂……”隔壁传来熟悉的童谣,在房中回响。这首温柔的歌在此时却不断撞击着我的心腔,也如一根无形的棍棒,搅拨着我的思绪、我的记忆。


幽静的夏夜,一个扎着小辫的女孩坐在一个面容慈祥的老人怀里,望着不远处树丛里透出的星星点点、如星光般微微闪烁的萤光。爷爷低沉、略带沙哑的嗓音仿佛是一只猫爪,不断抚摸我跳跃的心。“月光光,照地堂……”爷爷一手摇着大蒲扇,一手抚着我额前的碎发,剔去了我心中的燥热。同时,他也正陶醉地轻轻吟唱这首古老的童谣。


夏夜、萤光、蒲扇,以及如丝线般的童谣,串起了我美好的童年。


可我逐渐长大,身边被空调、风扇所包围,再也不愿去门口享受夏夜的凉风。爷爷却一如既往,安然坐在门口的石阶上,摇着、摇着那把掉了线的蒲扇。我也很少与爷爷聊天,听他唱歌了。


一天,我从学校接到了一个来自家的噩耗。当我赶到医院时,发现那个曾经让我骑在他脖子上玩耍的老人,此刻竟躺在洁白的床上,靠床边的营养液维持生命。病房里挤满了亲友,他们注视着我走向他。


他的头发仿佛是快要凋零的芦花,在风中柔弱地摇晃。他用他浑浊的眼注视着我,用他干瘦的手抓着我,眼中闪着希望的光芒。我俯下身,听到他艰难地吐出几个模糊的音节。我强忍住心中的悲痛,轻轻唱出那曾经的童谣。我紧抓着他的手,却发现一滴晶莹的泪滴落在他干瘦的手上。我小声地唱着,怕惊扰了他,也害怕四周射来的目光。


最后,他在歌声中闭上了眼,带着笑离开了这个世界。


我的泪禁不住,仿佛决堤般,汹涌而出。


我想,若是再给我一次机会,我一定会大声地歌唱,歌唱出我从心底的最深处埋藏了对他的爱。那首歌,不仅是从口中唱出,也是从心底发出的,如月光般倾泻在我身上的、浓浓的爱。那爱,也如那首古老的歌,不因岁月流逝而被遗忘,反而越有韵味。


“月光光,照地堂……”我在泪光中轻轻哼唱这首动人的歌。

英语翻译;

The moonlight shines on the ground..." A familiar nursery rhyme came from next door, echoing in the room. This gentle song kept hitting my heart at this moment, and it was like an invisible stick, stirring my Thoughts, my memories.


On a secluded summer night, a girl with pigtails sat in the arms of a kind-faced old man, looking at the stars and faintly twinkling fluorescent lights from the bushes not far away. Grandpa's low, slightly hoarse voice is like a cat's claw, constantly stroking my jumping heart. "Moonlight, Zhaoditang..." Grandpa shook the big pu fan with one hand and stroked the broken hair on my forehead with the other, removing the heat in my heart. At the same time, he was singing this ancient nursery rhyme softly in intoxication.


Summer nights, fluorescent lights, puffball fans, and silk-like nursery rhymes have linked up my beautiful childhood.


But as I grew up, surrounded by air conditioners and fans, I no longer wanted to go to the door to enjoy the cool summer night breeze. Grandpa, as always, sat on the stone steps at the door, shaking and swaying the broken fan. I rarely chat with Grandpa and listen to him singing.


One day, I received a bad news from home from school. When I rushed to the hospital, I found that the old man who used to let me ride on his neck to play was lying on a white bed at the moment, relying on the nutrient solution beside the bed to maintain his life. The ward was crowded with relatives and friends, and they watched me and walked towards him.


His hair seemed to be withering reed, swaying softly in the wind. He stared at me with his muddy eyes and grasped me with his thin hands, his eyes gleaming with hope. I leaned down and heard him spit out a few fuzzy syllables with difficulty. I resisted the grief in my heart and sang the old nursery rhyme gently. I clutched his hand tightly, but found a drop of crystal clear tears falling on his thin hand. I sang in a low voice, afraid of disturbing him, and afraid of the eyes from all around.


Finally, he closed his eyes in the singing and left the world with a smile.


My tears couldn't help but burst out like a bank.


I think, if you give me another chance, I will sing loudly, singing out that I have buried the love for him from the deepest part of my heart. That song was not only sung from the mouth, but also from the bottom of my heart, with a deep love pouring down on me like moonlight. That love, like that ancient song, is not forgotten due to the passage of time, but is more charming.


"Moonlight, Zhaoditang..." I gently hummed this moving song in tears.


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