春/ Spring
陈谅死后的第七天，念带着所有人上山。
On the seventh day after Sol's death， Mis led everyone up the mountain.
一百多口人，排成一排，站在那五块石头前面。阿姆的，祝的，磐的，小石的，陈凉的。
Over a hundred people， lined up in rows， standing before those five stones. Amu's， Ser's， Pan's， Shi's， Sol's.
念跪在最前面，烧了一些粟米，洒了一杯酒。
Mis knelt at the front， burned some millet， poured a cup of wine.
“陈凉，“他说，“今天是第七天。我们来看你。“
“Sol，“ he said，“today is the seventh day. We have come to see you.“
风吹过来，把他的头发吹乱。他顾不上理。
Wind blew， messing his hair. He paid no attention.
“地已经种下了。种的是你带来的种子。粟，麦，还有那个叫'稻'的东西。你教过，稻要种在水边。我们找了块湿地，种下去了。不知道能不能活。“
“The land has been planted. Planted with the seeds you brought. Millet， wheat， and that thing called 'rice.' You taught us， rice must be planted by water. We found a wetland and planted it there. Do not know if it will grow.“
他顿了顿。
He paused.
“小禾天天去看。她说，稻苗长得很好。绿的，高高的。比粟还高。“
“Sprout goes to look every day. She says the rice seedlings are growing well. Green， tall. Taller than the millet.“
小禾站在他身后，低着头。她的手握着她儿子的手，握得很紧。
Sprout stood behind him， head lowered. Her hand held her son's hand， held tight.
“桑的身体好了。能走能跑能干活。她每天帮小禾带孩子，带孩子认字。那个孩子叫'小谷'，六岁了，跟你学的那些字，他都会写。“
“Mon's health has recovered. She can walk， run， work. Every day she helps Sprout with the child， teaching the child to write. That child is called Millet， six years old now; the characters you taught， he can write them all.“
小谷抬起头，看着那块刻着“陈凉“的石头。他不认识那些字，但他知道，那是阿娘天天指给他看的人。
Millet looked up at that stone carved with“Sol.“ He did not recognize those characters， but he knew that was the person his mother pointed out to him every day.
念说完了。
Mis finished speaking.
他跪在那里，很久很久。
He knelt there， a very long time.
然后他站起来，转过身，看着那些人。
Then he stood up， turned， and looked at those people.
“回去吧。“他说，“地还要浇，孩子还要喂，日子还要过。“
“Let's go back，“ he said.“The land still needs watering， the children still need feeding， life still needs living.“
他们往回走。
They walked back.
风吹过来，吹过那五块石头，吹过那些字，吹过那些名字。
Wind blew， blowing across those five stones， blowing across those characters， blowing across those names.
播种那天，出了点事。
On planting day， something happened.
小禾蹲在地里，挖坑，放种子，盖土。她做得很慢，很仔细，每一粒种子之间的距离都一样。
Sprout crouched in the field， digging holes， placing seeds， covering with soil. She worked very slowly， very carefully， each seed evenly spaced.
做着做着，她忽然停下来。
As she worked， she suddenly stopped.
她抬起头，往人群里看。那个熟悉的身影不在。
She looked up and looked among the crowd. That familiar figure was not there.
她愣在那里，手还放在土里，一动不动。
She froze there， her hand still in the soil， not moving.
旁边一个女人问：“小禾？怎么了？“
A woman beside her asked:“Sprout? What's wrong?“
小禾没说话。
Sprout did not speak.
她又看了一遍。从东看到西，从前面看到后面。没有。那个穿着灰色衣服的人，不在。
She looked again. From east to west， from front to back. Nothing. That person in gray clothes was not there.
她低下头，继续挖坑。
She lowered her head and kept digging.
挖着挖着，眼泪掉下来，掉在土里，湿了一小片。
As she dug， tears fell， falling into the soil， wetting a small patch.
她用手背擦了擦，继续挖。
She wiped with the back of her hand and kept digging.
那天晚上，念问她：“你今天在地里哭了？“
That night， Mis asked her:“You cried in the field today?“
小禾说：“没有。“
Sprout said:“No.“
念说：“我看见你了。“
Mis said:“I saw you.“
小禾不说话。
Sprout did not speak.
念说：“我也想他。“
Mis said:“I miss him too.“
小禾低下头。过了一会儿，她说：“我种地的时候，老是觉得他还在旁边。蹲在那儿，捏着土，看苗。我一抬头，就能看见他。“
Sprout lowered her head. After a while， she said:“When I plant， I always feel he is still nearby. Crouching there， feeling the soil， watching the seedlings. When I look up， I can see him.“
念说：“我知道。“
Mis said:“I know.“
小禾说：“可是看不见了。“
Sprout said:“But I cannot see him anymore.“
念没说话。
Mis said nothing.
那天夜里，小禾很久没睡着。她躺在兽皮上，看着头顶的黑暗。小谷睡在她旁边，呼吸很轻，很均匀。
That night， Sprout could not sleep for a long time. She lay on the hides， staring into the darkness above. Millet slept beside her， breathing softly， evenly.
她忽然想起陈凉说过的一句话。
She suddenly remembered a phrase Sol had said.
“活着不是为了自己。是为了那些死了的人，那些活着的人，那些还没出生的人。“
“Living is not for oneself. It is for those who have died， those who are living， those not yet born.“
她侧过身，看着小谷。
She turned on her side and looked at Millet.
小谷睡得正香，嘴角有一点口水。
Millet slept soundly， a little drool at the corner of his mouth.
她伸出手，轻轻擦掉。
She reached out and gently wiped it away.
然后她闭上眼睛，睡着了。
Then she closed her eyes and slept.
夏/ Summer
连续半个月没下雨。
For fifteen days in a row， no rain fell.
粟苗蔫了，叶子卷起来，耷拉着，像要死了。稻苗也蔫了，水田里的水越来越少，越来越少，快要干了。
The millet seedlings wilted， leaves curled， drooping as if about to die. The rice seedlings wilted too; the water in the paddies grew less and less， almost dry.
有人开始慌。
Some began to panic.
“以前陈凉在的时候，从没这样过……“
“When Sol was here， it was never like this...“
“是不是他走了，神灵也不保佑我们了？“
“Has he gone， and the spirits no longer protect us?“
“会不会又有什么灾祸要来？“
“Is some disaster coming again?“
烈站出来。
Fic stepped forward.
“陈凉不在，我们就不活了？“他看着那些人，声音很大，“他教过，看云识天气。我来。“
“Sol is gone， so we stop living?“ He looked at those people， his voice loud.“He taught us—watch the clouds to know the weather. I will do it.“
他带着几个人，爬到山顶，看了一整天。
He took several people and climbed to the mountaintop， watching all day.
天上的云，风向，太阳的位置，远处山的颜色。他想起陈凉教过的那些——哪样的云会下雨，哪样的风会晴天，哪样的天色是变天的前兆。
The clouds in the sky， the wind direction， the sun's position， the colors of distant mountains. He remembered what Sol had taught—which clouds bring rain， which winds bring clear weather， which sky colors are signs of changing weather.
看了一天一夜。
He watched for a whole day and night.
第二天，他下山，对所有人说：“明天有雨。“
The next day， he came down the mountain and said to everyone:“Tomorrow there will be rain.“
有人问：“你怎么知道？“
Someone asked:“How do you know?“
烈说：“陈凉教的。“
Fic said:“Sol taught us.“
第二天，真的下雨了。
The next day， it really rained.
不是大雨，是小雨。绵绵的，细细的，下了一整天。地喝饱了，苗喝饱了，人也喝饱了。
Not heavy rain， but light rain. Continuous， fine， falling all day. The earth drank its fill， the seedlings drank their fill， the people drank their fill.
烈站在雨里，仰着头，让雨水打在脸上。
Fic stood in the rain， head lifted， letting the rain hit his face.
没人知道他是在笑，还是在哭。
No one knew whether he was laughing or crying.
桑走过来，站在他旁边，也仰着头。
Mon walked over， stood beside him， also lifting her head.
她说：“陈凉在上面看着我们。“
She said:“Sol is up there watching us.“
烈说：“嗯。“
Fic said:“Mm.“
桑说：“他会高兴的。“
Mon said:“He will be happy.“
烈说：“嗯。“
Fic said:“Mm.“
两个人站在雨里，站了很久。
The two stood in the rain， stood a long time.
秋/ Autumn
收成比去年还好。
The harvest was better than last year.
粟堆成小山，麦堆成小山，稻也堆成小山。那堆稻，比人还高，黄澄澄的，在太阳底下发着光。
Millet piled into small mountains， wheat piled into small mountains， rice piled into small mountains too. That pile of rice was taller than a person， golden yellow， glowing in the sunlight.
念站在那堆稻旁边，忽然想起陈凉说过的话。
Mis stood beside that pile of rice， suddenly remembering words Sol had said.
“种地不是为了打人。是为了不挨饿。“
“Planting is not for fighting people. It is for not going hungry.“
他喊来小禾。
He called Sprout over.
“你去分。“
“You distribute it.“
小禾愣住了。“我？“
Sprout was stunned.“Me?“
念说：“陈凉教过你。你行的。“
Mis said:“Sol taught you. You can do it.“
小禾站在那里，看着那堆稻，看着那些等着分粮的人。一百多口人，老老少少，都看着她。
Sprout stood there， looking at that pile of rice， looking at those people waiting for grain distribution. Over a hundred people， old and young， all looking at her.
她深吸一口气，走到那堆稻前面。
She took a deep breath and walked to the front of that rice pile.
“老人先来。“她说，“六十岁以上的，站这边。“
“Elders first，“ she said.“Those over sixty， stand here.“
老人们慢慢走过来。
The elders slowly walked over.
“一家一家来。别挤。“
“One family at a time. Don't crowd.“
她开始分。一筐一筐，按人头，按年纪，按家里有没有小孩。分得很慢，但分得很清楚。
She began distributing. Basket by basket， by head count， by age， by whether the family had children. She distributed slowly， but very clearly.
分了一天一夜。
She distributed for a whole day and night.
分完之后，她蹲在地上，哭了。
When she finished， she crouched on the ground and cried.
不是因为累。
Not from exhaustion.
是因为——她做到了。陈凉教她的，她都记住了。
Because—she had done it. Everything Sol taught her， she had remembered.
小谷跑过来，蹲在她旁边，问：“阿娘，你怎么哭了？“
Millet ran over， crouched beside her， and asked:“Mother， why are you crying?“
小禾擦了擦眼泪，说：“没事。阿娘高兴。“
Sprout wiped her tears and said:“It's nothing. Mother is happy.“
小谷问：“高兴什么？“
Millet asked:“Happy about what?“
小禾说：“高兴你还活着。高兴我们都活着。“
Sprout said:“Happy that you're alive. Happy that we're all alive.“
小谷不懂，但他点了点头。
Millet didn't understand， but he nodded.
冬/ Winter
第一场雪落下的时候，念带着所有人上山祭拜。
When the first snow fell， Mis led everyone up the mountain to pay respects.
一百多口人，排成一排，站在那五块石头前面。雪落在石头上，落在那些字上，落在地上，薄薄的一层。
Over a hundred people， lined up in rows， standing before those five stones. Snow fell on the stones， on those characters， on the ground， a thin layer.
念跪在最前面，烧了一些粟米，洒了一杯酒。
Mis knelt at the front， burned some millet， poured a cup of wine.
“陈凉，“他说，“今年收成好，人也没生病，孩子都壮。你放心。“
“Sol，“ he said，“this year's harvest was good， no one got sick， the children are all strong. Rest easy.“
风吹过来，把他的话吹散了。
Wind blew， scattering his words.
但他知道，陈凉听见了。
But he knew Sol heard.
小禾跪在他旁边。小谷跪在她旁边，跪得端端正正，像大人一样。
Sprout knelt beside him. Millet knelt beside her， sitting properly like an adult.
小谷问：“阿娘，陈凉是谁？“
Millet asked:“Mother， who is Sol?“
小禾指着天上的星星——雪停了，云散了，星星出来了，密密麻麻的。
Sprout pointed at the stars in the sky—the snow had stopped， the clouds had scattered， stars had come out， densely packed.
“最亮那颗。“
“The brightest one.“
小谷抬起头，找了半天。他问：“哪颗最亮？“
Millet looked up， searched for a long time. He asked:“Which one is brightest?“
小禾也找。找了很久，她指着东边的一颗。
Sprout looked too. She searched for a long time， then pointed at a star in the east.
“那颗。“
“That one.“
小谷看了很久。然后他问：“他在上面做什么？“
Millet looked for a long time. Then he asked:“What does he do up there?“
小禾想了想，说：“在看我们。看我们种地，看我们认字，看我们活着。“
Sprout thought a moment， then said:“He watches us. Watches us plant， watches us write， watches us live.“
小谷点了点头。他看着那颗星，看了很久很久。
Millet nodded. He looked at that star for a very long time.
然后他问：“阿娘，明天吃什么？“
Then he asked:“Mother， what are we eating tomorrow?“
小禾笑了。
Sprout smiled.
“吃粟米粥。陈凉教我们种的粟米。“
“Millet porridge. The millet Sol taught us to plant.“
小谷也笑了。“我要吃两碗。“
Millet smiled too.“I want two bowls.“
小禾说：“好。吃两碗。“
Sprout said:“Good. Two bowls.“
窝棚外，雪还在下。窝棚里，火塘烧得正旺。
Outside the hut， snow still fell. Inside the hut， the hearth burned bright.
那缕炊烟升起来，飘向天空，飘向那颗最亮的星。
That wisp of cooking smoke rose， drifting toward the sky， toward that brightest star.
那天夜里，念一个人上了山。
That night， Mis went up the mountain alone.
他走到那五块石头前面，站了很久。雪已经盖住了它们，只剩五个模糊的突起。
He walked to those five stones and stood for a long time. Snow had already covered them， leaving only five vague humps.
他在陈凉的石头前面蹲下来，用手把雪拨开。
He crouched in front of Sol's stone and brushed the snow away with his hand.
那些字露出来。
Those characters emerged.
“陈凉之墓“
“Grave of Sol“
下面那行小字：
Below， the smaller line:
“他从很远的地方来。他教我们种地、认字、看星星。他救了我们。他是我们的人。“
“He came from a very far place. He taught us to plant， to write， to watch the stars. He saved us. He was one of us.“
念看着那行字，很久很久。
Mis looked at that line for a very long time.
然后他说：“陈凉，你教我的那些，我都记住了。种地，认字，看星星。当首领。做人。“
Then he said:“Sol， everything you taught me， I have remembered. Planting， writing， watching the stars. Being chieftain. Being a person.“
他顿了顿。
He paused.
“我会教下去的。教小禾，教小谷，教以后的人。一直教下去。“
“I will keep teaching. Teach Sprout， teach Millet， teach people in the future. Keep teaching forever.“
风吹过来，把他头发上的雪吹落。
Wind blew， shaking the snow from his hair.
他站起来，转身下山。
He stood up and turned to walk down the mountain.
走了几步，他回头看了一眼。
After a few steps， he looked back.
那五块石头静静地立在那里，在雪里，在夜里，在星光下。
Those five stones stood quietly there， in the snow， in the night， under the starlight.
他转回头，继续走。
He turned back and kept walking.
山坡下，部落里，有炊烟升起来。
At the foot of the hill， in the tribe， cooking smoke rose.
有人在等他回去吃饭。
Someone was waiting for him to come home for dinner.