Relentless as time goes by, but not my memory of that night.
that night, the father of warmth, be like everlasting of the Yangtze river water flow quietly in my heart, like a day dongsheng sun warms my heart, my life.
twenty years ago, I remember that is a lonely village in the hazy one dark winter night, no stars, no moon, the night is normal. Act in an opera in our village is acting, making baby ah sound with high and low and clear and melodious sound while the jinghu, to wave, the temptation to my childhood. Curiosity I like glue pestering my father took me to the theatre. Always love my father, he is regardless of the daytime tiredness, and dragged tired body to go with me to.
the day ying white snow field, cold light snow pure the earth, to purify the air, Bai Xueying awning, LanYingYing light shone. Snow underfoot isalso a soup, in the quiet night to be true and far away, as they walk on the wild uninhabited desert. My father always holding the cold like purple ginger buds small, hidden in his warm sleeves for me warm. Cold day, but freezing me a joy and pride in the little chest. Suddenly, his father a staggered fall on the snow, a piece of the root of the roughness bare feet at his father. I felt the sting of the father's face was strong distortion was ugly. I keep silent palpitate, callous to stare blankly in the snow, standing beside the father of lodging, at a loss. I'm afraid my father would halfway back. However, my father, my father, he, but small cuttings from snow slowly walked up and patted the snow crumbs, rubbed his wines sore ankle, and firmly hold my the more cold hands, lurched forward. Behind the front suddenly and violently Li to roar of the wind, at the foot of the snow held high, a nasty YiHuan ground rang and sound is very messy. I think the father each step bit keenly jaws, I seemed to feel the father behind the two lines of deep shallow footprints in Yin is full of blood... Whereas the strands of warm water, still hot spring continually from his father's hand, coming...
that night, father used his wines like sore feet sculpture made in the snow, let me on the shoulders of his tired look at the night of the play. While my hands never left his father those warm and hard hand grasp...
twenty years have passed, I experienced a never-failing nison sunset, countless flowers bloom and fade, the full moon, not the vicissitudes of life make this night a distant memory. The operas that night I didn't remember how many, but the warmth of his father that night has been flowing in my heart, warm my life, never gone away...
無情的時(shí)光流逝，卻帶不走我對那一夜的記憶。
那一夜，父親的溫情，似亙古不絕的長江水從容地流在我心底，似日日東升的太陽溫暖著我的胸懷，我的生命。
二十年前，我朦朧記得那是寂寥鄉(xiāng)村中一個(gè)黑黑的冬夜，沒有星星，也沒有月亮，那個(gè)夜晚很平常。我們鄰村正在演戲，咿咿呀呀的唱戲聲和著清亮悠揚(yáng)的京胡聲絲絲縷縷、高高低低地飄揚(yáng)過來，誘惑了童年的我。好奇心驅(qū)使我如膠般纏著父親帶我去看戲。一向愛我的父親，便也不顧白天的勞累，拖著疲憊的身子同我去了。
下了一天的大雪映白了田野，輕盈冷冽的雪純潔了大地，凈化了空氣，白雪映著天幕，透射出藍(lán)瑩瑩的光。雪在腳下咯吱咯吱地發(fā)出脆響，在寂靜的冬夜里傳得真切而又遙遠(yuǎn)，一如走在杳無人跡的荒原大漠。父親始終握著我那凍得如紫姜芽般的小手，藏在自己溫?zé)岬男涔芾餅槲遗??？岷奶?，卻凍凝不了我那小小胸膛里的一股喜悅與豪情。突然，父親一個(gè)趔趄跌倒在雪地上，一塊粗黑的樹根*露在父親腳邊。我感覺到父親的臉被強(qiáng)烈的刺痛扭曲得很難看。我心慌地沉默著，木然地楞在雪地里，站在倒伏的父親身邊，不知所措。我害怕父親會半路退回。然而，父親，我的父親，他，卻一截一截地從雪地里慢慢撐扶起來，拍了拍身上的雪屑，揉了揉崴疼的腳踝，又堅(jiān)決地握住我那更加冰冷的小手，向前蹣跚走去。風(fēng)在身前身后暴唳地吼著，腳下的雪一高一低，一急一緩地響著，聲音很是凌亂。我覺出父親每走一步都咬緊著牙關(guān)，我似乎感覺到父親身后那兩行深深淺淺的腳印里殷滿了鮮血……而那股暖流，卻依舊溫泉般不斷地從父親的手上傳過來，傳過來……
那一夜，父親用他崴痛的雙腳雕塑般立在雪地里，讓我在他疲憊的肩膀上看了一夜的戲。而我的雙手卻始終不曾離開過父親那雙溫暖而又粗硬的大手的把握……
二十多年過去了，我經(jīng)歷了不盡的日升日落，數(shù)不清的花開花落，月圓月缺，不盡的滄桑使這一夜成為遙遠(yuǎn)的記憶。那夜的戲文我雖沒記住多少，但那夜父親的溫暖卻一直流淌在我心里，暖著我的生命，從來沒有消失過……
that night, the father of warmth, be like everlasting of the Yangtze river water flow quietly in my heart, like a day dongsheng sun warms my heart, my life.
twenty years ago, I remember that is a lonely village in the hazy one dark winter night, no stars, no moon, the night is normal. Act in an opera in our village is acting, making baby ah sound with high and low and clear and melodious sound while the jinghu, to wave, the temptation to my childhood. Curiosity I like glue pestering my father took me to the theatre. Always love my father, he is regardless of the daytime tiredness, and dragged tired body to go with me to.
the day ying white snow field, cold light snow pure the earth, to purify the air, Bai Xueying awning, LanYingYing light shone. Snow underfoot isalso a soup, in the quiet night to be true and far away, as they walk on the wild uninhabited desert. My father always holding the cold like purple ginger buds small, hidden in his warm sleeves for me warm. Cold day, but freezing me a joy and pride in the little chest. Suddenly, his father a staggered fall on the snow, a piece of the root of the roughness bare feet at his father. I felt the sting of the father's face was strong distortion was ugly. I keep silent palpitate, callous to stare blankly in the snow, standing beside the father of lodging, at a loss. I'm afraid my father would halfway back. However, my father, my father, he, but small cuttings from snow slowly walked up and patted the snow crumbs, rubbed his wines sore ankle, and firmly hold my the more cold hands, lurched forward. Behind the front suddenly and violently Li to roar of the wind, at the foot of the snow held high, a nasty YiHuan ground rang and sound is very messy. I think the father each step bit keenly jaws, I seemed to feel the father behind the two lines of deep shallow footprints in Yin is full of blood... Whereas the strands of warm water, still hot spring continually from his father's hand, coming...
that night, father used his wines like sore feet sculpture made in the snow, let me on the shoulders of his tired look at the night of the play. While my hands never left his father those warm and hard hand grasp...
twenty years have passed, I experienced a never-failing nison sunset, countless flowers bloom and fade, the full moon, not the vicissitudes of life make this night a distant memory. The operas that night I didn't remember how many, but the warmth of his father that night has been flowing in my heart, warm my life, never gone away...
無情的時(shí)光流逝，卻帶不走我對那一夜的記憶。
那一夜，父親的溫情，似亙古不絕的長江水從容地流在我心底，似日日東升的太陽溫暖著我的胸懷，我的生命。
二十年前，我朦朧記得那是寂寥鄉(xiāng)村中一個(gè)黑黑的冬夜，沒有星星，也沒有月亮，那個(gè)夜晚很平常。我們鄰村正在演戲，咿咿呀呀的唱戲聲和著清亮悠揚(yáng)的京胡聲絲絲縷縷、高高低低地飄揚(yáng)過來，誘惑了童年的我。好奇心驅(qū)使我如膠般纏著父親帶我去看戲。一向愛我的父親，便也不顧白天的勞累，拖著疲憊的身子同我去了。
下了一天的大雪映白了田野，輕盈冷冽的雪純潔了大地，凈化了空氣，白雪映著天幕，透射出藍(lán)瑩瑩的光。雪在腳下咯吱咯吱地發(fā)出脆響，在寂靜的冬夜里傳得真切而又遙遠(yuǎn)，一如走在杳無人跡的荒原大漠。父親始終握著我那凍得如紫姜芽般的小手，藏在自己溫?zé)岬男涔芾餅槲遗??？岷奶?，卻凍凝不了我那小小胸膛里的一股喜悅與豪情。突然，父親一個(gè)趔趄跌倒在雪地上，一塊粗黑的樹根*露在父親腳邊。我感覺到父親的臉被強(qiáng)烈的刺痛扭曲得很難看。我心慌地沉默著，木然地楞在雪地里，站在倒伏的父親身邊，不知所措。我害怕父親會半路退回。然而，父親，我的父親，他，卻一截一截地從雪地里慢慢撐扶起來，拍了拍身上的雪屑，揉了揉崴疼的腳踝，又堅(jiān)決地握住我那更加冰冷的小手，向前蹣跚走去。風(fēng)在身前身后暴唳地吼著，腳下的雪一高一低，一急一緩地響著，聲音很是凌亂。我覺出父親每走一步都咬緊著牙關(guān)，我似乎感覺到父親身后那兩行深深淺淺的腳印里殷滿了鮮血……而那股暖流，卻依舊溫泉般不斷地從父親的手上傳過來，傳過來……
那一夜，父親用他崴痛的雙腳雕塑般立在雪地里，讓我在他疲憊的肩膀上看了一夜的戲。而我的雙手卻始終不曾離開過父親那雙溫暖而又粗硬的大手的把握……
二十多年過去了，我經(jīng)歷了不盡的日升日落，數(shù)不清的花開花落，月圓月缺，不盡的滄桑使這一夜成為遙遠(yuǎn)的記憶。那夜的戲文我雖沒記住多少，但那夜父親的溫暖卻一直流淌在我心里，暖著我的生命，從來沒有消失過……