<p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">文 字：雨霏霏</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">美篇号：42946745</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">图 片：网络致谢</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">当青铜鼎盛放，玄鸟的纹章，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">黄土岗，便有了第一声震颤的嘹亮。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">渭水流淌，用九曲把光阴抻成歌唱，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">周原的陶埙，在烽燧台边发烫。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">先民，将粟穗与箭镞一同埋进墒，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">等八百里加急风撞响粗犷的秦腔。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">驼铃，把古调撒在河西走廊，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">月牙泉，咽下戍卒嘶哑的凝望。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">碑林里，未刻的韵脚渗出墨香，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">灞桥折枝时，甩出半句悲凉。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">老戏台，用裂缝咀嚼朝代更迭，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">秦砖，却把宫商角徵羽砌成墙。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">油灯下，针线补着破旧的戏裳，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">盐罐与糖罐，在板胡弦上对抗。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">麦浪，驮着晒裂的唱本翻山梁，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">唢呐，吹散药炉上苦涩的雾瘴。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">红绸，裹住生锈的犁铧破墒，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">戏词，在豁口碗沿叮当作响。</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">铜钹，突然劈开三更天的雨浪，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">胭脂，勾出的忠奸在额前冲撞。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">蟒袍，抖落百年风雪步履铿锵，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">水袖，甩出银河坠入凡人胸腔。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">黑脸一声吼，震得星斗摇晃，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">白髯口，飘过汉唐未散的霜。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">后台的草鞋，还沾着春泥清香，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">前台已唱尽，九死一生的荒凉。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">断指老叟，用烟杆敲击节拍，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">孩童，在幕布后偷学倒海翻江。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">戏文里的乾坤，借油彩再次传扬，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">谢幕时，满场空凳热得发烫。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">这腔调，会把魂灵铸成青铜像，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">让麦芒与箭矢，在喉间和解相商。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">山河在拖腔里，保持跪姿捧土，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">每个升调，都掘向血脉的矿藏。</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">听啊！大地腹腔传来古老震荡，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">三秦儿郎，正接过嘶哑的苍茫。</span></p>