柳笛聲聲 ?—— 彭彥花 ?The sound of willow flutes—— Peng Yanhua

躍龍

沿減河?xùn)|岸北上，九十里處到達(dá)我的故鄉(xiāng)；沿歲月長(zhǎng)河回溯，二十年處，是我的童年。兒時(shí)記憶里的減河、岸邊的柳樹(shù)、寂靜的小村莊，在腦海里，愈長(zhǎng)大，愈是清晰。?? Heading north along the east bank of the Jian River, ninety li later I arrive at my hometown; looking back along the long river of time, twenty years later is my childhood. The Jian River, the willows on its banks, and the quiet little village from my childhood memories become clearer in my mind as I grow older. 　　三月里刮春風(fēng)，柳條兒泛了青，不是那春風(fēng)吻翠柳，柳條還在睡夢(mèng)中。當(dāng)春風(fēng)拂上大地，減河兩岸的柳樹(shù)第一個(gè)追隨著她的腳步，綠了自己，減河水也一改冬日灰蒙蒙的冷面孔，扭著腰身兒、泛著水花兒歡快地流去。?? In March, the spring breeze blows, and the willow branches turn green. But if the spring breeze hadn't kissed the green willows, they would still be asleep. When the spring breeze sweeps across the earth, the willows on both banks of the Jianhe River are the first to follow in her footsteps, turning themselves green. The Jianhe River, too, changes its cold, gray face from winter, and flows merrily, twisting its waist and splashing water. 　　村兒里的孩子們隨著換去笨拙的棉衣，日漸活躍。放學(xué)鈴聲一響，一群小子丫頭拖著書(shū)包奔向村西，誰(shuí)家的大人看到這群向西奔跑的小人兒，都會(huì)大聲吼一嗓子：“當(dāng)心著，別掉河里去！”十幾個(gè)小人兒齊刷刷地一聲：“哎！”?? As the village children shed their bulky cotton-padded clothes, they became increasingly active. As soon as the school bell rang, a group of boys and girls dragged their schoolbags and ran towards the west of the village. Any adult seeing these little ones running west would shout, "Be careful, don't fall into the river!" A dozen or so children would respond in unison, "Hey!" 　　奔上河堤，在落日的余暉里，各自占一棵樹(shù)，三兩下爬上去，把書(shū)包順手掛在樹(shù)杈上。折一根柳條，選中間無(wú)疤節(jié)的一段，輕輕擰到柳條脫離，用尖牙叼住里面的柳枝骨，抽出，拿小刀輕輕刮兩下前端，一支柳笛便已做好。在沒(méi)有玩具的童年，會(huì)發(fā)聲的柳笛是我們最好的樂(lè)器。一群伙伴，各自握一把粗的、細(xì)的、長(zhǎng)的、短的柳笛在手，輪換著放進(jìn)嘴里，樂(lè)聲四起，或低沉或清脆，隨著聲揚(yáng)音落，我們嬉笑著、擠眉弄眼著，以至于長(zhǎng)大后一聽(tīng)到柳笛聲便不由自主地要揚(yáng)眉、要咧嘴兒。?? We ran up the riverbank, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, each of us grabbed a tree, climbed up quickly, and casually hung our schoolbags on the branches. We broke off a willow twig, chose a section without knots, gently twisted it until it detached, used our sharp teeth to hold the inner willow stalk, pulled it out, and lightly scraped the tip a couple of times with a knife—and a willow whistle was ready. In a childhood without toys, the willow whistles that made sounds were our best instruments. A group of friends, each holding a thick, thin, long, or short willow whistle, took turns putting them in their mouths, and music rose and fell, sometimes deep, sometimes clear. As the sounds rose and fell, we laughed and made faces, so much so that even now, the sound of a willow whistle makes us involuntarily raise our eyebrows and grin. 　　記憶里一年的歡騰便是由這清脆地柳笛聲起了頭兒，大姑娘小媳婦半老的婆婆們也相伴著，剪一捆又一捆的柳條回家，用兩根竹筷自制的夾子褪去青青的柳皮，露出一根根白潤(rùn)的柳條，浸泡、晾曬，最后在一雙雙巧手的編織穿梭下，做出一個(gè)個(gè)饃筐。吃飯時(shí)，熱騰騰的胖饃躺在潔白的柳條筐里被端上了桌，熱氣兒一蒸，饃的麥香、柳條的清香，混合在一起，飄忽一室。?? In my memory, the year's festivities began with the crisp sound of willow whistles. Young women, wives, and even middle-aged women would join in, cutting bundle after bundle of willow branches to take home. Using homemade tongs made from two bamboo chopsticks, they would peel off the green bark, revealing the white, smooth branches. After soaking and drying them, skillful hands would weave them into baskets for steamed buns. At mealtimes, steaming hot, plump buns would be placed on the table in these white willow baskets. The steam would release the aroma of wheat from the buns and the fragrance of the willow branches, mingling together and filling the room. 　　不知道已經(jīng)過(guò)了多久這樣的日子，只在翻看辦公桌上臺(tái)歷時(shí)，才獲悉春天到來(lái)的消息。選了一個(gè)陽(yáng)光明媚的周日午后，獨(dú)自漫步減河濕地風(fēng)景區(qū)。耳畔忽而響過(guò)一聲清脆哨音，循聲望去，一個(gè)七八歲年紀(jì)的女孩兒站在那里，嘴里叼著柳笛，叉著腰昂著俏臉兒，一聲兒接連著一聲兒，把我的記憶從2011吹回到1991……?? I don't know how long such days have passed; it was only when flipping through the calendar on my desk that I learned spring had arrived. I chose a sunny Sunday afternoon and strolled alone through the Jianhe Wetland Scenic Area. Suddenly, a clear whistle rang in my ears. Looking in the direction of the sound, I saw a girl of about seven or eight years old standing there, a willow whistle in her mouth, hands on her hips, her pretty face tilted back, whistling one whistle after another, blowing my memories from 2011 back to 1991… 　　本文2011年刊發(fā)《德州日?qǐng)?bào)》柳湖副刊 作者：彭彥花，80后，山東省作家協(xié)會(huì)會(huì)員，出版有《成長(zhǎng)的姿態(tài)》《那些躲在箱子里的愛(ài)》《未來(lái)好不好，走過(guò)去才知道》。?? This article was published in the Liuhu supplement of the Dezhou Daily in 2011. ? Author: Peng Yanhua, born in the 1980s, member of Shandong Writers Association, published works include "The Posture of Growing Up", "The Love Hiding in the Box", and "Whether the Future is Good or Not, We'll Only Know After We've Gone Through".