午后的陽光碾碎了潔白的梔子花瓣，落下一地斑駁的清影。我躺在安樂椅中，微弱的呼吸。

In the afternoon, the sun crushed the white gardenia petals and left a mottled shadow. I was lying in an easy chair, breathing faintly.

我想，我是老了吧：我的臉好像核桃一樣粗糙不平了，頭發(fā)白了，牙齒掉了，身上布滿深褐色的斑點。我低頭，看那些松軟的泥土，或許，不久我會與他們?nèi)跒橐惑w了。臥龍躍馬終不過黃土啊!

I think I'm old: my face is rough like a walnut, my hair is white, my teeth are off, and my body is covered with dark brown spots. I look down at the soft soil. Maybe I will be one with them soon. Wolong Yuema is no more than loess!

此刻，我的心里泛起了一圈圈的漣漪，曾幾何時，那個被稱之為故鄉(xiāng)的地方，也有這樣溫暖的陽光。也有這樣一片飄著芳香的泥土。我仿佛又看到了家門前的青山綠水，聞到老屋廚房里飄出的飯香……。

At this moment, my heart has a circle of ripples, once upon a time, that place known as hometown, also has such warm sunshine. There is also such a piece of fragrant soil. I seem to see the green mountains and waters in front of my house again, and smell the fragrance of rice in the kitchen of the old house.

依稀記得兒時的家園，青色瓦，黃土墻。屋里住著一位漢子，每日早出晚歸。他喜歡叼著旱煙，坐在門檻上望著妻兒，一臉知足的神情。屋里的女人，也是起早貪黑操持著家務(wù)，把家里打理得井井有條—他們就是爹娘。

Vaguely remember the childhood home, blue tile, loess wall. There is a man in the room who goes out early and returns late every day. He likes to sit on the threshold and look at his wife and children with a contented look. The women in the house, who are also in charge of housework from morning to night, keep the house in order - they are parents.

依稀記得兒時的頑皮，摸魚捉蝦，掏鳥蛋，玩伴們拿著竹竿和樹枝，在山坡上追逐嬉鬧。

I vaguely remember the naughtiness of childhood, fishing for shrimp, pulling out bird eggs, playmates with bamboo poles and branches, chasing and frolicking on the hillside.

依稀記得戰(zhàn)火燒到家鄉(xiāng)的情景，我告訴爹娘，我要抗戰(zhàn)救國時，爹和娘的眼圈都紅了。這是我有生第一次看到眼前的漢子——我的爹如此的脆弱。油燈下，娘將一滴滴眼淚縫進了新制的衣裳。

Vaguely remember the scene when the war burned to my hometown. I told my parents that their eyes were red when I wanted to fight against Japan and save the country. This is the first time in my life that I have seen the man in front of me - my father is so fragile. Under the oil lamp, my mother sewed a drop of tears into the new clothes.

依稀記得，那個梳著兩條辮子，雙眼通紅，如丁香一般結(jié)著愁怨的姑娘，站在村口揮手，聲聲喚著早些回來。這聲音，直到遠去的親人身影逐漸模糊，才化在風中。

Vaguely remember, the girl with two braids, red eyes, like cloves, standing at the entrance of the village, waving and calling for early return. This voice, until the distant relatives figure gradually blurred, only in the wind.

一晃幾十年，彈指一揮間，當我隨著軍隊踏上這片被稱為祖國寶島土地的那一刻，我知道——家鄉(xiāng)，已離我遠去!

For decades, with a flick of my fingers, when I set foot on this land called the treasure island of our motherland with the army, I knew that my hometown was far away from me!

我?guī)еK身的遺憾，我以為我再也回不到那個老屋了，幾年前的兩岸實現(xiàn)了間接三通，我沒有回去。物是人非，我不知回去尋些什么。接下來的，臺商第一次包機去探親，我沒有回去，因為，我的親人早巳化作塵土……

With a lifelong regret, I thought I would never go back to that old house. A few years ago, the two sides of the Taiwan Straits realized indirect three links, and I did not go back. Things are different. I don't know what to look for. Next, for the first time, Taiwanese businessmen chartered a plane to visit their relatives. I didn't go back because my relatives had already turned to dust

如今；我老了，將不久于世了。故土卻牽動我的神經(jīng)，畢竟她是生我養(yǎng)我的地方啊!是我此生依戀的地方啊!

Now, I am old and will soon be in the world. My hometown affects my nerves. After all, it is the place where I was born and raised. It is the place where I am attached in this life!

我愿回到那個小山村，躺在母親的墳旁，就如落葉歸于土地一樣……。

I would like to go back to that small mountain village and lie beside my mother's grave, just as fallen leaves return to the land.

風箏飛的再高，總有一根紅線系著，落葉飄得再遠，總要歸于根啊!

No matter how high the kite flies, there will always be a red line tied to it. No matter how far the fallen leaves are, they will always belong to the root!

我愿在遲暮的某一天，永久地躺在那遙遠的故鄉(xiāng)的土地上，慢慢地，慢慢地，化為泥土………

I would like to lie on the land of my far away hometown one day, slowly, slowly, into the earth