“当你老了，走不动了，灯火昏黄不定……”
"When you are old and can't walk, the lights are dim..."
都说人生是一本书，大结局的上篇就是在为结束做准备。又说人生是一辆没有终点站的列车。可，到底有没有终点，又有谁知道呢？我们只是在车上做着自己的一份事，朝着目标奋斗时也在等待着，等待着不知何时会到达的终点站，等待着自己提着一生回忆下车的那一瞬间。
It is said that life is a book. The first part of the finale is to prepare for the end. Life is a train without a terminal. But who knows if there is an end? We are just doing our own thing in the car. We are also waiting when we are striving for the goal. We are waiting for the terminal station that we do not know when we will arrive, and we are waiting for the moment when we get off the bus with our life memories.
故事总是在跌跌撞撞里蹉跎很多年，等真的到了那个时候啊，故事，也就算真的完结了，那车呢，便也从终点站返回，回到最初的地方，开始又一次新的征程。
The story always stumbles in waste for many years. When it comes to that time, even if the story is really finished, the car will return from the terminal, return to the original place, and start a new journey.
在我的印象中，母亲似乎一点没变，只是一觉醒来，不经意的转头间，看到了她的面庞显得有些憔悴。小时候，她总是用宽大的手牢牢地抓住我的小手，牵着我出门去。我还清楚地记得，那时她的手可滑溜了呢！二楼的阳台上，有一把长椅。夏夜，我俩就伴着虫鸣声坐在长椅上闲谈。她总是先谈起我的近况。后来，她暗暗说到，最近是怎么了呢，做事总力不从心，拖拖地洗洗衣服，腰就痛得不行，真是人老不中用了……
In my impression, my mother seems to have no change, just wake up, inadvertently turn her head, see her face appears a little haggard. When I was a child, she always grasped my little hand firmly with broad hands and led me out of the house. I remember clearly that her hands were slippery at that time! On the balcony on the second floor, there is a bench. On summer night, we sat on the bench chatting with the sound of insects. She always talks about me first. Later, she said secretly, what's the matter recently? She's always unable to do what she wants. If she drags the floor to wash clothes, her waist hurts. It's really useless
不知道什么时候，母亲絮叨着絮叨着就靠在长椅上睡着了。清幽的月光洒在母亲的面颊上，她睡得很安详。映照着皎洁的月光，我猛地发现，平日里高大，一直如盔甲般护着我的母亲原来长得如此清秀，眼角有颗泪痣，很是好看。只是岁月的痕迹在不知不觉中爬上了母亲的眼角。几条皱纹舒展开，留下了淡淡印记，乌黑的发丝中夹杂着些许银丝。我轻轻挽起母亲的手，这双手似乎更有力却不再像我记忆中那样柔嫩，粗糙又有些泛黄，可还是纤细修长，关节分明。
I don't know when, mother chattered and fell asleep on the bench. The moon was shining on her mother's cheek, and she was sleeping peacefully. Reflected in the bright moonlight, I suddenly found that, usually tall, has been protecting my mother like armor, so beautiful, there is a tear mole in the corner of her eye, which is very beautiful. Just the traces of the years in imperceptible climb up the corner of the mother's eyes. Several wrinkles unfolded, leaving a light mark, black hair mixed with a little silver. I gently take my mother's hand, which seems more powerful, but no longer as soft as I remember, rough and some yellowing, but still slender, joints clear.
母亲其实年纪并不大，也许她老了，也许还没，但依我看，母亲操劳了大半辈子，也是该好好休息一些时光了，因为一时找不到合适的理由，我想“老了”这两个字，便是休息的最好借口了。母亲已不再像年轻时那样轻狂，她有个家，有丈夫，有儿女，她承担的，又何止是仅仅一个女子本应承担的责任。
In fact, my mother is not very old. Maybe she is old or not. But in my opinion, after working hard for most of her life, she should have a good rest. Because I can't find a proper reason for that, I think the word "old" is the best excuse for rest. Mother is no longer as frivolous as she was when she was young. She has a family, a husband and children. What she undertakes is more than the responsibility that only a woman should have.
月光朦胧，虫鸣鸟啼，近老的母亲安睡着。
The moon is near, the birds are singing.
