月亮下的歌声

淅淅沥沥的雨中，谁在唱歌？歌声那样动听，竟让月亮醉了。淡黄色的月牙儿托风打听唱歌的人。风吹遍了所有地方，也没有找到。歌声停后是一声长长的叹息，这叹息是那样悲伤，听得人快要掉眼泪。

黄昏的光线降临在最高的树梢上，那歌声又响了起来，鸟儿们沿着声音飞去，寻找唱歌的人。它们飞出森林，飞进城市的楼丛中，在一栋楼外看到了一个温婉可人的女人，歌声正是从她口里传出来的。鸟儿们围着她飞了一圈后，停了下来，站在窗台上静静地听她唱歌。

胆大的云雀飞到女人的肩上，看到她的眼睛直直地盯着屋里的一个小女孩。小女孩趴在桌上，面对丰盛的饭菜却一口也吃不下，旁边坐着的男人一脸愁容。眼尖的云雀看到桌上摆的照片，上面居然就是这个唱歌的女人。云雀侧过头，看到唱歌的女人已经泪流满面了。

“你为什么不进去呢？”云雀奇怪地问。

“他们看不到我了！”女人一边擦着眼角的泪，一边说。

“为什么呢？”云雀一点也不明白她的话。

“因为我已经死了。”女人捂着脸又哭起来。

鸟儿们点了点头，大家都有关于死亡的记忆。“砰！”一声枪响，跑得不快的便会掉落下去。爱哭鼻子的云雀想到自己的妈妈，也忍不住伤心地哭起来。

屋内的小女孩头向窗户这边转过来，因为她听到了鸟叫。她的眼睛直盯着窗外。女人的泪水不断地涌出眼眶。

“你唱歌是想让她听到吗？”云雀迫切地想解开心中的疑团。

“她听不到我唱的催眠曲就不睡觉，这些天又吵着不吃饭了。”女人眉头紧蹙，悲伤在眼中浓得化不开。

“我们想想办法吧！”云雀拍着翅膀蹿来蹿去，小女孩站起来向这边走。鸟儿们都飞向女人，有的站在她的头上，有的站在她的肩上。鸟儿围在女人身上，一个人形显现了。

小女孩激动地喊：“妈妈！”喊声吓得鸟儿们飞走了。它们胆子太小，总是被人类吓得躲藏起来。云雀却例外，它仍然停在女人的指尖。

小女孩伸出了手，她的指尖离女人的手那么近，就像碰到了一样。云雀站到了她的手上。小女孩的目光变得无比温柔，她用手轻轻地抚摸着云雀的羽毛。

女人眉头舒展，带着微笑看着她的女儿，慢慢地飞起来。小女孩把云雀放在窗台上，去厨房给它找米。她要像妈妈一样照顾这只小云雀，小云雀也喜欢停靠在这只温暖的小手中。

夜幕开始降临，灯光渐渐温暖起来。

Who was singing in the drizzle so beautifully as to intoxicate the moon? The creamy crescent moon had the wind enquire about who was singing. It blew everywhere but couldn’t find the singer. A long sigh was heaved after the halt of singing; it sounded so sad that it brought whoever heard to the verge of tears.

At nightfall, the beams of sunlight lingered on the crown of the tallest tree, when the singing voice wafted again. Birds flew towards the voice to trace the singer. They flew out of the woods and into the forest of buildings. When on the wing, outside a block they saw a gentle, lovely woman, who precisely was the singer. Birds flew around her in a loop and then alighted upon the window sill, enjoying her singing quietly.

A daring lark flicked and perched on the shoulder of the woman. It saw her staring at a little girl inside the room. The slumped little girl showed no appetite for the square meal on the table. A sour-looking man sat beside her. The sharp-eyed lark saw a picture on the table. It was the female singer who was in the picture. The lark turned its head aside and caught sight of her tearful face.

“Why not go in?” the lark asked curiously.

“They cannot see me!”said the woman while wiping away the tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Why not?”the lark couldn’t follow her at all.

“For I have been dead,”the woman was in tears, covering her face with hands.

Birds nodded. All of them had a memory of death. With a gunshot, they would be killed if they were slow in fleeing. At the thought of its own mom, the snivelling lark couldn’t help shedding tears bitterly.