为着这匹马,父亲向祖父起着终夜的争吵。“两匹马,咱们是算不了什么的,穷人,这匹马就是命根。”祖父这样说着,而父亲还是争吵。九岁时,母亲死去。父亲也就更变了样:偶然打碎了一只杯子,他就要骂到使人发抖的程度。后来就连父亲的眼睛也转了弯,每从他的身边经过,我就象

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问题    为着这匹马,父亲向祖父起着终夜的争吵。“两匹马,咱们是算不了什么的,穷人,这匹马就是命根。”祖父这样说着,而父亲还是争吵。九岁时,母亲死去。父亲也就更变了样:偶然打碎了一只杯子,他就要骂到使人发抖的程度。后来就连父亲的眼睛也转了弯,每从他的身边经过,我就象自己的身上生了针刺一样;他斜视着你,他那高傲的眼光从鼻梁经过嘴角而后往下流着。
   所以每每在大雪中的黄昏里,围着暖炉,围着祖父,听着祖父读着诗篇,看着祖父读着诗篇时微红的嘴唇。
   父亲打了我的时候,我就在祖父的房里,一直面向着窗子,从黄昏到深夜。窗外的白雪,好象白棉花一样飘着;而暖炉上水壶的盖子,则象伴奏的乐器似的振动着。

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答案 Mother passed away when I was nine years old. From then on, father became worse: he scolded us to the degree that we shiver with fear just for accidentally breaking a cup. Afterwards, even father’s eyes became squinty, which made me feel like being pricked with a needle whenever I walked past him: when he looked askance at you, his arrogance went from his eyes to the bridge of his nose and then continued to move down the corners of his mouth. Therefore, often at snowy dusk, we sat around grandfather by a heating stove, listening to him reading poems and watching his reddish lips while he was reading.

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