When I say this, I don’t even remember how old I am. How long have I lived as a house in the northern fields of this peninsula called the Apennines, 200 years, 300 years, maybe longer? Today, I have become a birdless empty nest. The dozens of rooms in the three-story building are empty. Floors and wooden ladders creak when they step on it. Only the north wind passes between the broken window frames and wooden doors and howls.
I am very close to a city called Milan, only one and a half hours of water. Now, people say that this is one of the richest places in this peninsula or even this continent, but in my hazy memory, it seems that there is nothing but endless Hugh's poverty and suffering, when I saw joy, I was irretrievably old, and I no longer remember my youth and my prime. Maybe, in fact, I don't want to remember, who knows.
Until one day, thirty years ago, thirty years ago, it seemed to me that thirty years was still yesterday. I was remembered again, and suddenly a group of people came here wearing the clothes I faintly saw, and it brought some strangeness. It’s said that a man named Ermano Olmi is going to shoot a movie here, a movie related to me, "Wooden Shoe Tree".
Oh, clogs tree, clogs tree, the cute childish face of that child suddenly appeared before my eyes, and his father with a beautiful mustache—the man with a charming shy smile.
The past that had hibernated underground for more than a hundred years was awakened. At that time, maybe I was middle-aged. My house was filled with dozens of people from five or six families. The yard was filled with children’s laughter, the barn was filled with fodder, the corn was hanging on the eaves, and the barn came from Mooing and mooing. At that time, I was called the village of Bergamo.
Memories are like a wisp of smoke, ghostly hovering over the fields and me for more than a hundred years, erratic and unwilling to disperse, seeming to have been waiting for this moment to be awakened, entangled and formed by my will, vaguely Distinction... The
widow,
like all other families, the house, land, tools, livestock, and even the creek outside the courtyard and the poplar trees by the river belong to the landlord master who lives in the mansion in the town. They It's just a tenant farmer who works hard, just ask for a job, and live in a house on the days when the north wind blows, and don't suffer from freezing and starvation.
She already has five children. When she was pregnant with her sixth child, her husband left her, leaving behind their mother and son, and the scrawny public Ann Selmon. Fortunately, God does not want to completely destroy this kind-hearted fat woman. The father-in-law’s body has always been good. They also have a bull that belongs to them. The eldest son Pinot Noir is also 15 years old and has found a job in the mill. Do it, you can help her share some.
Without a man to work on the ground, Lonke takes on all the laundry work in the old man’s house, and also washes the sheets and bedding for the hotel helpers in the town. In the ice winter, she also had to lie on the riverside and wash and wash constantly. Two well-behaved daughters pushed a wheelbarrow, helped her transport clothes back and forth, looked after the babies, and had no time to play with other children in the yard. Even so, life still weighed heavily on her, leaving her breathless.
The kind priest wanted to help her and told her specifically that she could send her two youngest girls to a monastery to lighten her burden. I saw her trembling lips, and didn't refuse or agree. In the evening, when Pinot returned from work, eating brown bread exhaustedly, Lonke told him what the priest had said. Pebino lowered his head: "I would like to work day and night, and be with my sister." I seemed to hear Lorenko let out a sigh of relief.
I have never seen a woman who is more kind and pious than Lonke. She often invites the poor beggar with some disabilities to eat with them at home. If the children make fun of him, she will immediately reprimand: "A person like this is the master. The most precious child."
But the disaster still came, and their cattle could not stand up without eating or drinking for two days. The doctor said that the cow will not survive noon, and if it is slaughtered as soon as possible, it can be exchanged for some money. Lonke stood blankly, this was their only property, how could she be willing? ! I saw this strong woman grabbing a pitcher, walking quickly out of the yard, through the woods, to the deserted church, praying to Jesus on the cross, begging, and finally even screaming, letting the Lord Forgive her for all the sins she committed, and let all the sins and diseases be taken away by the river flowing through Calvary, as long as her cows get better.
God must have heard her voice. The next day, the bull who had eaten her delicacies with Baogu noodles and new year milk finally stood up. I am also very happy for her. At that moment, I felt that God must be on my dome, looking at this respectable woman with compassion.
The gold coins are
in my yard, and what everyone hates most is Final, this stingy man with a pointed chin. He is also the agent of the landlord master, and takes care of the property here, including me, on behalf of the master. I don't like him at all.
Everyone knows that when Baogu pays rent and weighs after the harvest, he will stop halfway and load several large rocks into the carriage, but no one denounces him to the master.
His son is a drunkard, older than Pinot Noir, but he is lazy, drinking in the barn upstairs. One night, Feinar reprimanded his son as a slacker, and the son scolded Feinar as a stingy person, and the father and son fought. He ran out to pull them hard, Feina Er angrily cursed his son, Anse Belmont grandfather said: "!! Pay attention to his words, Feina Er father's verbal abuse will never fall to the ground of"
fallow season, town Coming up to the circus, Finner went to hang out every night, and then came home drunk. One night when everyone was asleep, he suddenly ran back out of breath and went straight to the stable. It turned out that he picked a gold coin in the town. He held the gold coin tightly in his palm, afraid of being known by his wife and son, and even dared not take it home. Finally, he stuffed the gold coin into the horseshoe and pressed it again with the mud.
In a blink of an eye, it was the season of spring plowing, and Feinar set up the carriage and went to fertilizer on the ground. He grabbed the horse's hoof and took a look. There was nothing inside! He cursed the horse hysterically and harmed him, and he pulled the horse's ears. The horse suddenly rushed towards him by pulling the cart, scared him to run into the stable, everyone hurried over and pulled the cart away, he was still cursing, no one could let him stop.
Feiner was sick, had a fever and had a stomachache. After lying on the bed for several days, the witch doctor said that his stomach was full of bugs that had escaped from hell.
Only I know what's going on. Before the
lover
knew it, Dalina had already become a beautiful girl, with a slim figure, a beautiful face, and a shy look. She was the most beautiful girl in our yard.
That evening, the sun had not completely set down from the edge of the mountain, and the smoke floating on the fields was stained with a golden layer. From a distance, I saw Dalina coming back from the small road leading to the town, with a stay behind her. The young man with a faint moustache is Stefano in the neighboring village. I saw him in the summer when he helped Dalena's family to harvest wheat. They were walking in tandem, with a few steps in between. Dalina speeded up and Stefati would speed up to follow her, but not to catch up with her. They just walked like this, without saying a word. I saw Dalina turn her face back a few times, but she turned her head back and said nothing. After turning the last turn, I entered my yard. Stefano finally took two steps and asked Dalina: "May I greet you?" Dalina stopped, but was silent. Stefano said again: "Don't you respond to me?" I vaguely heard Dalina say softly: "I greet you too." She didn't turn around from the beginning to the end, Stefano only saw her healthy Nice back.
It’s almost Christmas. The wind is so cold outside the house. After dinner, everyone goes to the large warehouse where the feed is downstairs. The men are smoking cigarettes, the women are knitting, and the children are chasing and killing the long winter. night. One night, when everyone was listening to Battisti's story, the door was pushed open from the outside, and Stefano stood a little awkwardly outside the door. I heard women whispering, saying that the suitor is coming. Everyone resisted a laugh. The men greeted Stefano to come in and listen to the story. Later, everyone went to the yard and listened to the wonderful music from the distance from the master’s mansion. Amidst the sound of the music, I noticed that Stefano and Dalena glanced at each other in a hurry, but they were still far away. Say a word.
Before spring came, Stefano's family finally came to propose. They got married when the poplars were growing young leaves. On the day of their wedding, Dalina’s parents sent their baby’s only daughter and husband on the ferry to Milan to see Dalina’s aunt, the dean of a convent in Milan. They are the first couple in the village to go to Milan. I saw them sitting quietly on the ferry from a distance, like all lovers, holding their hands intimately, and occasionally looking at each other without saying a word.
Later I heard that they had spent the first night in a monastery in Milan, and they were the only couple who had lived in that monastery. That night, the dean’s aunt put the two single beds for the orphans together, and the nuns tied a beautiful yellow bow on the head of the bed.
I also heard that on the road, they saw gunpowder and the war between heavily armed soldiers and unarmed workers in the city.
When Sister
Dalena and her husband returned from Milan, they held a cute baby boy in their arms, dressed in beautiful baby clothes, and wearing a lace hat. Everyone was so surprised that even the white-haired priest rushed to see what was going on.
Dalena handed the letter from the dean's aunt to her to the priest. It turned out that the dean's aunt asked them to adopt the child. The letter said that as long as the child is alive, the church will pass on the support of their child every year until he is 15 years old. The dean said that this sum of money is not a small sum for them, they need it very much, and the children also need them, and they need true parental love.
I have never seen the dean nun. There are only two outsiders I remember in my whole life, one is the landlord, and the other is her. I think she is the most beautiful and kind nun in the world.
Her name is Maria, which is the same as the name of the Virgin.
Grandfather
Lonke is lucky. Although her husband has died, she has a good father-in-law, and the children also have a good grandfather. It can even be said to be the best grandpa in the world.
Grandpa's body has always been arrogant, and he has never suffered a serious illness. He never said that he caught a cold or cold, and he passed it quite well. When he was too old to make it to the ground, he carefully served the small piece of vegetable plot at home. Their dishes always grew well and fast. This is the proudest thing for the little granddaughter.
In winter, grandfather would hold his granddaughter around the fireplace and tell the children about souls. He said that the souls of evil spirits are hidden in Mars. He moved the fire with pliers to make the sparks fly high and fly away from the chimney, saying: "Run the evil spirits, run the evil spirits, there are good children in the house."
In the middle of the night, the first snow fell. Grandpa quietly got up, put on his clothes, carried the oil lamp to the chicken coop, picked up the basket of chicken manure he and his little granddaughter had accumulated for a year, and went to the vegetable field outside the courtyard wall. . I saw through the faint light that his thin hands were picking up the icy soil one by one, burying a handful of chicken manure in it. It turns out that this is his secret. When the first snow falls, he uses chicken manure to keep the vegetable plot warm. When the seeds are planted in the next spring equinox, his tomatoes can go on the market one or two weeks earlier than others. The snow was blowing, and it got bigger and bigger, even I was a little bit cold, and my body shivered. The snow shaking from the roof fell on my grandpa.
It's spring, and grandpa gives each of the children an ironware. He takes everyone to sing and dance from the yard to the field: "Spring is here, spring is here! Winter is here, winter is here!"
Summer is here, The tomatoes planted by grandpa and granddaughter are the first to go on the market.
On
the afternoon of Clogs Sunday, Battisti and his wife were stopped by the priest. The priest said that their son Minluck is smart and should go to school. They must respect the talents the Lord has given to this child, and this is also good for the child.
Although Batisti mumbled "If the peasant's son went to school, what would they say", and he was expecting his son to be a little older to help him, he still asked his wife to sew a schoolbag and give it away. Luck went to school.
Maybe it makes sense for Minluck to be smart. Batisti is the smartest man in the yard. On winter nights in the fodder, he will always have new stories to make everyone go back and forth. That is also my happiest time every day. . I like this man who can talk and is a little shy sometimes.
Batisti already has three children. The money owed to the midwife for the last childbirth has not been repaid, and his wife has a big belly again. He told his wife to go to the hospital to give birth to a child, and his wife responded "umh".
One day, someone came to call Batty who was working in the field. His wife had already given birth. Batty rushed to the house, and the women in the neighbourhood had already given birth to a boy for his wife. Barty distressedly blamed his wife for not taking risks. The wife did not say a word and looked at him with a smile.
After school was over, Minluck's shoes fell off as soon as he ran out of the classroom, and the sole of his clogs on his left foot had split longitudinally in half. Minluck unfastened the cloth strap of his pants, wrapped his shoes around his feet, and walked slowly home with his pants in his hands. Still not working, he took off his wooden shoes and socks, and walked back home barefoot with water. Dad asked him why he came back so late, but he didn't say a word. Battisti distressedly picked up his son and sat down by the fireplace, roasting his feet in the hot ash that was still warm. Mom told Minluck to go upstairs to see his new brother. Dad removed the shoes and socks on his other foot and hugged him up the stairs. Minluck and Dad didn't mention clogs until they went to bed.
As the night darkened, Batisti put on his coat, came to the river with an axe under his arm, cut down a poplar tree, quietly hid the dead branches and stump, wrapped the cut piece of wood in his clothes and took it back. At home, it took a whole night of work to make a pair of beautiful new wooden shoes for my son.
In the summer, half of the wooden stake was still seen by the master, and the Battisti family could no longer work here or live here. Feiner drove away all the tools and livestock with the carriage.
At dinner, it was the first time that the yard was so surprisingly quiet, and the family ate silently in the house. Lonke took the children to recite the Rosary for the Batty family. Batty silently put a few broken boxes and a door panel on the carriage. His wife and children sat in the carriage without talking. The teardrops on Minluck’s face were set against the candlelight from the windows of other people’s houses. The light was shining brightly.
The car squeaked out of the courtyard. People came out of the house and looked at their backs quietly. I suddenly felt ashamed. I'm not ashamed of everyone, what right do I have? What can they do? I am ashamed that I myself want to witness all this, but I can't do anything about it.
As the night fell, the carriage went farther and farther, disappearing into the boundless night.
More than one hundred years have passed. For such a long time, this country and I have experienced countless disasters, poverty and wars together. Now that I am old, late abundance doesn't make much sense to me. When people go to empty buildings, even the wood is beginning to rot. I don't remember the earth-shattering tragedy. What I remember now is only those calm and silent people more than a hundred years ago. Even these, there are only a few floating fragments left.
There are many older and more beautiful buildings in this country that are worth protecting. I am really abandoned and decayed. From some solitary mourners who occasionally come, I vaguely heard that in the east, in the country where the woman is covered with a scarf, there are the same things as mine. There are two brothers and sisters without shoes, and there are in the olive grove. Silent lovers walking through. Because of them, I love that country.
I also heard that in the more distant East, there is a people who have been silent for thousands of years, and there is a place as devastating as my peninsula-perhaps deeper and longer than the disaster I have experienced, that village, that island , Even that continent was called a "city of sorrow" by a person with black hair, black eyes and yellow skin. That little man, I heard he was called Hou Xiaoxian.
I love them. Love that island and land, love those who are silent.
When I was young, I longed to stand at the southern end of the peninsula, near the sea. There is no humidity, no rain, and only the warm sunshine of the Mediterranean, bright and bright, and life is worry-free. I don't want to go now. Maybe because my heart is old, my suffering has been integrated with the generations of people here.
I heard that at the beginning, all the continents were also integrated, but only later they separated. Then I wish my brothers and sisters in the East and the West can have the peace and joy that I have now. If my rafters can be immortal forever, and if my walls can never fall, I would like to stand here forever, witnessing the happiness of people on all continents, and there will never be nightmares in the morning when they wake up, and the evening when the cold wind blows.
forever.
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