梦里几回梨花香 Im Traum der Duft der Birnenblüten (中英文 cn | en) 

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作者：天之德泽

这一群从小一起长大的孩子们，经过了岁月的洗礼，并没有褪去当年的纯真，却仍旧珍藏着那份难能可贵的友谊，保持着那种积极向上的斗志。

 （一）归心似箭

礼拜天的傍晚，飞机就要起飞了。我们一家四口坐在座位上，我的内心不由地激动起来。四年没回祖国了，又是四年，十六年来的第三次回国。儿子坐在窗口，兴奋地望着舷窗外面，女儿戴好耳机，打开小屏幕，悠哉悠哉地看起了电影。妻子则在一旁眯缝着眼睛，好不容易安顿好了，终于可以休息一下了。我心里陈杂着各种心情，想睡觉却睡不着，想看电影却静不下心来，一会儿看看这边的儿子和女儿，一会儿又看看过道那边的妻子，真不知该怎样熬过这九个多小时的飞行时间。

飞机向着东方飞行，祖国似乎一点一点离得近了。不一会儿，夕阳西沉，夜幕降临了。我在半梦半醒之间，仿佛已经回到了祖国，投入了家乡的怀抱。

恍惚间，来到了梨园家乡。在水车巷的河滩上，黄河水一刻不停地向西奔流。也许是上天的照顾，本来向东流的黄河在家乡的边上突然间调了个头，先向西，然后向北，最后渐渐向东流去，长长的河水像一条柔软的丝带环绕着家乡，哺育着这里淳朴善良的百姓。河滩的对面是连绵不断的青石头山，即使在炎热的下午，仍旧笼罩在雾气当中。而河滩地的上方就是一片美丽的梨园，梨园里果树长得十分地茂密，阳光使足了劲，才穿透层层的树叶，在略显潮湿的地面画上斑斑驳驳的影子。孩子们则在河湾里游水玩耍，这里是男孩子的天堂，清一色都是脱得光光的男孩，有的在涝巴水塘里游泳，有的在河面上冲刺，胆小的则在河边的浅水区扑腾。由于河岸比较陡峭，稍微往前进，水就会漫过头顶。我在岸边踌躇半晌，正想也跳进水里，试一试深浅，突然间电话铃响起来了。

（二） 梨园歌声

电话原来是莉莉打来的，约我去看我们张罗已久的音乐会的剧场。我乘公交车来到见面的地点，才发现这里离我家很近。四年没见莉莉，心里有些忐忑不安。等了一会，发现皮鞋上落了许多灰，一路鞍马劳顿，鞋子都没及时擦好。我在临街的小店门口，脚搭在台阶上，弯下腰，用纸巾擦了擦鞋子，这下看上去好多了。我左顾右盼，人还是不见踪影。莉莉是我同班同学的妹妹，从小我们几个就在一起玩耍，上学，唱歌，拉琴，彼此结下很深的友谊。甚至到了我上大学的时候，莉莉的学校离我不远，我们还是会经常见面，一起切磋琴技。

耳边忽然响起了秦腔。莉莉在剧场的舞台上亭亭地站着，微微地笑着，清脆的嗓音唱得人心动，一曲未完，观众多次鼓掌喝彩，印花的小红绸被面儿纷纷地飞落在舞台上，铺满了一地，像是春天里的落英缤纷。那歌声婉转亮丽，穿过了时空，将当年美丽的白蛇在断桥的情景重现在大家的眼前。我惊讶这小姑娘唱得这么好，这么有味道，一招一式，一字一句，诉尽离情别意，断肠人在天涯。这么多年过去了，莉莉的长相没有什么变化，仍旧那么美丽年轻，充满活力和朝气，浑身似乎有使不完的力气。

（三） 倾情演绎

忽然间，许多的人涌进了剧场，面容都似曾相识，猛然间却叫不上名字。我伸出双手，握住那一双双热情温暖的手，嘴里说着含糊不清的问候，头脑昏沉沉地，仿佛喝足了醉人的美酒。人们三三两两地坐在一起，有人急忙端来了三泡台，砌上烫烫的开水，茶香味渐渐地弥漫开来。不知怎的，我有些局促不安了，手心不断地出汗，赶紧端起茶喝了几口。茶水香甜可口，沁人心脾，真是家乡的味道。我的心又恢复了平静，才发觉剧场里流动着乡音，那声音像小溪的流水声，错落有致，韵味十足，字字如同珠玑，轻轻地敲打在我的心坎，又如春天的细雨，柔柔地滋润着我的心田。啊，久违的家的感觉，家的味道，家的踏实和平安，在这群儿时的伙伴中间，像一丝丝的涓涓细流，穿透岁月的层层坚冰，终于汇聚成一曲激情澎湃的乐歌。

乡音的乐歌奏响在我的耳畔，流进了我的心底，清晰得让人不容置疑，活泼得让人不由心动。那被岁月尘封多年的记忆，像潮水一般涌流出来。童年，金色的童年，难忘的童年，让我再一次睡在妈妈的怀抱，听妈妈讲那过去的事情。让我再一次走在故乡的小路，听秋日的喃喃私语，看映山红染红山坡。童年，童话般的童年，天真烂漫的童年，让我将最美的歌儿唱给妈妈，替妈妈擦一把眼角的泪花。经过风风雨雨，坎坎坷坷，才知道妈妈的怀抱是世界上最温暖的地方，是充满爱和平安的地方。光阴的故事叫我们成熟深沉，梨园的歌甜花香让我们流连忘返，而甘肃老家的味道将永远伴我们同行。如今，当年的小伙伴已经到了不惑之年，虽然红颜渐旧，内心却愈加坚强，面对未来坎坷，敢问路在何方。但愿春风不忘痴情的记忆，家乡山水还依旧，草美树美，山美水美，牵挂的人儿更美。

（四） 美梦成真

“先生，您想吃哪一种饭?” 我突然从梦中惊醒，发现自己还在飞机上。赶紧坐起身来，四下里打量一番，妻子和孩子们都在座位上。我打开舷窗帘，刺眼的太阳光照得我的眼睛生疼生疼地，原来飞机并没有向东方飞行，而是在追逐太阳，向西方飞行。我心里一阵阵地难过，莫非回国的假期已经如飞般地过去了? 我们已经告别了家乡，踏上了回程? 抑或是我们根本就没有回国，只是做了一个关于回家的美梦? 我又有些恍惚，梦里梦外分辨不清了。自从2000年来到德国，回国就已经成为遥远的梦想，只能在心里牵挂奢望，却总是遥不可及。我的心里一阵地悲伤，眼泪几乎要涌出眼眶。家乡啊家乡，游子日夜想念你，你的样子是否已经改变，让人找不到昨天的踪影? 你的心肠是否已经改变，让人不能再贴近你的胸膛，倾听往昔的记忆?

飞机仿佛静止不动了，人们都悄无声息地睡着了，我却听到了一声长长的叹息，似乎在慨叹人生的无常和艰辛。渐渐地，那叹息变化成了一个乐音，像是音乐家在琴弦上的弹奏，袅袅不绝，美丽动听。我的心里蓦然升起一丝的欢乐，被那个乐音牵引着，渐渐变大了，变大了。抑或梦里，抑或梦外，已然朦胧不清，但那浓浓的乡情，纯纯的友情，还有拳拳的亲情，如同烙印深深地印在我的心上，让我心里踏实，满足和温馨。

（2016年10月8日  德国柏林 2210字）

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英文翻译版：

Soul Mates in the Pear Garten
By Tianzhi Deze

This group of children, having grown up together, has weathered the passage of time without losing their youthful innocence. They still treasure that rare friendship and continue to uphold their positive, determined spirits.

I. Eager to Return

It was a Sunday evening, and the plane was about to take off. The four of us sat in our seats, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. It had been four years since our last trip back to the homeland—this would be the third return in sixteen years. My son, seated by the window, gazed out eagerly, while my daughter, headphones on, relaxed into a movie on the small screen. My wife, after finally settling in, closed her eyes for a brief rest.

I was a mix of emotions—too restless to sleep, too distracted to watch a film. My eyes alternated between my children on one side and my wife across the aisle, unsure how I’d pass the next nine hours.

As the plane flew eastward, it felt as though we were inching closer to the homeland. Soon, the sun set, and night fell. In that hazy state between waking and dreaming, I seemed to have already arrived, embraced by my homeland.

In my reverie, I found myself back in Pear Garten, in my childhood village by the Waterwheel Alley’s riverbank. The Yellow River, defying its usual eastward course, flowed westward here—perhaps as a special blessing—then turned north before finally winding back east. The river, like a soft ribbon, cradled the village, nourishing the kind-hearted people who lived there.

Across the river, the greenstone mountains stretched unbroken into the distance, veiled in mist even on a hot afternoon. Above the riverbank stood the beautiful pear orchard, its trees so dense that sunlight barely pierced through the layers of leaves, leaving dappled patterns on the damp ground.

Children splashed and swam in the river’s curve—this was a paradise for boys, all of them swimming bare. Some raced through the water, others paddled in shallow spots, while the timid ones stayed close to the riverbank. The riverbanks were steep, and just a few steps further, the water would rise above one’s head. I stood hesitating on the shore, about to dive in when suddenly, the sound of a ringing phone pulled me back to reality.

II. The Songs of the Pear Garten

The phone call was from Lily, inviting me to check out the theater where we had long planned to hold our concert. I took the bus to our meeting point, only to realize it was quite close to my home. It had been four years since I last saw Lily, and I felt a bit anxious. While waiting, I noticed that my shoes had collected a lot of dust from the journey, and I hadn’t yet had a chance to clean them. Standing outside a small shop, I placed one foot on the step and bent down to wipe my shoes with a tissue. They looked much better afterward, but still, Lily was nowhere to be seen.

Lily was the younger sister of one of my classmates. From childhood, a few of us had grown up together—playing, going to school, singing, and practicing our instruments. We formed deep bonds of friendship. Even during my college years, when Lily’s school was nearby, we often met to refine our musical skills together.

Suddenly, the sounds of Qinqiang opera filled the air. There was Lily, standing gracefully on the stage, smiling gently. Her clear, crisp voice tugged at the heartstrings of everyone listening. The audience applauded several times before she even finished the piece, and small red flower-patterned silk handkerchiefs fluttered down like petals, covering the stage, resembling the scattered blossoms of spring. Her singing, both elegant and radiant, transcended time, bringing to life the classic scene of the White Snake at the Broken Bridge.

I was amazed at how well she sang, with such depth and emotion. Each gesture, each word, conveyed the bittersweetness of love and separation—like the lament of someone wandering far from home. Though years had passed, Lily’s appearance hadn’t changed much; she remained as beautiful, youthful, and full of vitality as ever, with an energy that seemed boundless.

III. A Heartfelt Performance

Suddenly, a large crowd poured into the theater. Their faces all seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite recall their names. I reached out, grasping warm, enthusiastic hands, exchanging vague greetings. My mind felt clouded, as if I had drunk too much of some intoxicating wine. People gathered in small groups, some quickly bringing over sanpao tea, pouring hot water into the cups. The fragrant aroma of the tea gradually filled the room. For some reason, I began to feel uneasy, my palms sweating. I quickly took a few sips of the tea. Its sweet, refreshing taste was deeply comforting, a true flavor of home. My heart calmed, and I realized that the theater was filled with the familiar dialect of my hometown.

The voices flowed like the gentle babbling of a stream—rhythmic, full of charm. Each word sparkled like pearls, softly striking my heart, like the light spring rain gently nourishing the earth. Ah, the long-missed feeling of home, the taste of home, the sense of safety and peace that came from being among childhood friends. It was like a small stream, breaking through the layers of ice accumulated over time, finally converging into a passionate song.

The melodies of my hometown echoed in my ears, flowing into my heart, vivid and undeniable, stirring my emotions. Memories long buried by the passage of time surged like a rising tide. Childhood—golden, unforgettable childhood—washed over me. I once again slept in my mother’s embrace, listening to her tell stories of the past. I once again walked along the small paths of my hometown, listening to the quiet whispers of autumn, watching the blooming azaleas turn the hills red.

Childhood, a fairy tale-like time, filled with innocence and wonder. I wished to sing my most beautiful songs for my mother, to wipe away the tears from the corners of her eyes. After weathering life’s storms and hardships, I now understood that my mother’s embrace was the warmest place in the world, filled with love and peace.

The stories that time tells us make us mature and thoughtful. The sweet songs and floral fragrances of the pear garden are hard to leave behind, and the taste of my old home in Gansu will always stay with me. Today, those childhood friends have reached middle age. Though our youthful appearances may fade, our hearts grow ever stronger, ready to face the trials of the future. Where does the road ahead lead? May the spring breeze never forget the cherished memories, and may the mountains and rivers of our hometown remain unchanged—the grass greener, the trees taller, the landscapes more beautiful, and the people we hold dear even more so.

IV. A Dream Come True

“Sir, which meal would you like?” I was suddenly jolted awake, realizing I was still on the plane. Quickly, I sat up and looked around—my wife and children were still in their seats. I pulled open the window shade, and the blinding sunlight stung my eyes. To my surprise, the plane wasn’t flying eastward; it was chasing the sun, heading west. A wave of sadness washed over me. Could it be that our trip home had already flown by? Had we already left the homeland behind and begun our return journey? Or had we never gone home at all, and everything was just a dream of returning?

I felt disoriented, unable to distinguish between dream and reality. Since moving to Germany in 2000, going back to China had become a distant dream—one that lingered in my heart but always felt out of reach. Sadness surged within me, and tears almost filled my eyes. Oh, my homeland, how this wandering soul misses you day and night. Have you changed beyond recognition, making it impossible to trace the marks of yesterday? Has your heart shifted, making it impossible for one to press close to your chest and listen to the memories of the past?

The plane seemed to be suspended in stillness. Everyone around me was silently asleep, yet I heard a long sigh, as if lamenting the unpredictability and hardships of life. Slowly, that sigh transformed into music, like a musician plucking strings—soft, continuous, and hauntingly beautiful. A faint joy suddenly rose within me, stirred by that melody, and it grew larger and larger. Whether in the dream or outside it, everything blurred, but the deep longing for my homeland, the pure bonds of friendship, and the unwavering love of family were etched deeply into my heart. They filled me with a sense of peace, contentment, and warmth.

(First draft completed on October 8, 2016, Berlin, Germany. All rights reserved by the author)