戏曲艺术——旧时辉煌

仙居古镇的路是泥泞的，雨天几乎难走人；仙居古镇的路是狭窄的，小车几乎难停靠；仙居古镇的路是冷清的，行路几乎难遇人。

the road of xianju ancient town is muddy and hard to walk in rainy days; the road of xianju ancient town is narrow and the car is hard to stop; the road of xianju ancient town is cold and hard to meet people.

我独自在古镇走着，一座高大宽阔的古园吸引了我。跨过半膝高的门槛，展现在我眼前的是一别致的戏台。“哦，是戏院。”

i walk alone in the ancient town, a tall and broad ancient garden attracted me. across the half knee high threshold, what unfolds in front of me is a unique stage. "oh, it's the theater."

五丈高的戏台，散发着神秘的而古朴的气息，我忍不住东张西望，左摸右敲。

five zhang high stage, exuding a mysterious and simple atmosphere, i can't help looking around, left touch right knock.

“喂，你干什么？”

"hey, what are you doing？"

我猛一回头，蓦地发现戏台下已是人山人海。喝茶的，嗑瓜子的，聊天的，拉二胡的……有头发花白的老人，身强力壮的青年，衣着高贵的富人，衣衫褴褛的穷人……戏台上方，依然人如云烟。很多人都在上方伸着脑袋，似乎在等待些什么。孩子们在人群中嬉戏打闹，一片嘈杂；邻边儿有个大妈，同样在向外张望，还嗑起了瓜子，一个劲儿地往下吐。台下的人都好不情愿地看瓜子壳零零落落地往下掉，一下子翻了脸，吵得不可开交，到处是闹哄哄的一片。

i suddenly look back, suddenly found that the stage has been a sea of people. tea drinkers, melon eaters, chatters, erhu pullers the old man with grey hair, the strong young man, the rich man in noble clothes, the poor man in rags above the stage, people are still like clouds. a lot of people are holding their heads up, as if waiting for something. the children were playing in the crowd and making a lot of noise. there was a big mother next door who was looking out and was still chewing melon seeds and vomiting all the time. people under the stage were reluctant to see the melon seed shells falling, turned their faces all of a sudden, and there was a lot of noise everywhere.

“呛呛呛呛一噌——”全场骤然鸦雀无声。我也慌忙后退了几步，想探个究竟。只见一个“红眼”俏女迈着扭捏的碎步出场了。着装很是简单，仅陈旧破烂的戏服，脸上几抹淡淡的妆术，便绘成了一个角色。她先是用手在脸上遮遮掩掩的，之后竟然在原地兜起了圈子，白色的大褂，跟着她飘。耳边响起一阵如雷掌声。台下一人大吼：“祝英台，好！”

"choking, choking, choking, choking, choking and choking" -- the whole audience was suddenly silent. i also hurriedly backed up a few steps to find out. only see a "red eye" pretty woman with a twist of the step out. dress is very simple, only old and ragged costumes, a few light make-up on the face, then draw a role. first she covered her face with her hands, and then she even went around in circles. the white coat floated with her. there was a thunderous clap in my ear. "zhu yingtai, good!" shouted the audience

原来是“梁祝”，我擦亮了眼。

it turned out to be "liang zhu". i polished my eyes.

祝英台跷着兰花指左一点，右一指，那表情极为夸张，红色的粉底反衬着柳般细目，樱桃小嘴念着歌样的戏词，慢慢吟唱着，一个字似乎拖上了几分钟。那永远捕捉不到的眼珠子羞答答转着。

zhu yingtai looked at the orchid flower, pointing to the left side and pointing to the right side. the expression was very exaggerated. the red foundation was lined with willow details. the words of the cherry mouth were singing slowly, singing slowly, and the word seemed to drag on for a few minutes. the eyes that can never be caught turn with shame.

许久，“蓝袍”俊生大模大样从后台绕出来，和着祝英台的曲调唱起来，唱得刚强有力。想必此人就是梁山伯。

for a long time, junsheng of "blue robe" came out of the background in a big way and sang with zhu yingtai's tune, which was just and powerful. it must be liang shanbo.

若祝英台是柔美，他则是刚毅，两者结合就是缠绵。场下几十个人都激动地吼起来，掌声似乎从未停过。

if zhu yingtai is gentle, he is resolute, and the combination of the two is lingering. dozens of people roared excitedly, and the applause never seemed to stop.

“喂，孩子你在干什么呢？发什么呆呀？”

"well, what are you doing, son？ what are you doing？ "

我恍惚了一下，骤惊。戏曲声停了，掌声停了。台上台下所有人都似乎与梁祝一同“化蝶”了，就连那住大妈吐得一地的瓜子壳都不翼而飞了。

i was in a trance and shocked. the opera stopped, the applause stopped. all the people on and off the stage seemed to "butterfly" together with liang zhu, even the melon seed shell that lived in the place where aunt spits out disappeared.

整所园子依旧冷清冷清的，泥泞泥泞的。

the whole garden is still cold and muddy.

惟剩下眼前这个并不相识的百岁老人茫然的眼神。

only the blank eyes of the unknown centenarian.

我问这里过去干吗用，他说表演越剧；我又问这里现在干吗用，他说这是他们住的地方。

i asked why it used to be used here. he said to perform yueju opera. i asked why it is used now. he said it's where they live.

据说，留守下来的除上百岁老人便是不满十岁的孩童，壮年男女都去了新城。随着时间的流逝，这里的人越来越少。没人听戏剧，戏台也成了没用的东西了。

it is said that the remaining 100 year old people are children under the age of ten, and the young men and women have gone to the new city. as time goes on, there are fewer and fewer people here. nobody listens to the drama, and the stage is useless.

但是无论再残旧、泥泞、冷清……久经岁月的沧桑的一砖一瓦见证了戏曲艺术旧时的辉煌。台下现在只有一个年逾古稀的老人和一个年幼的我，在倾听着若隐若现的吟唱声……

but no matter how old, muddy, cold the bricks and tiles of the long history witnessed the brilliance of the traditional opera art. now there is only one old man and one young me listening to the faint singing