倒垃圾的人
The person who takes out the garbage
五马街是我去过最多的大街，那里车水马龙、络绎不绝，一个倒垃圾的老爷爷夹在其中，似乎有点不太和谐。
Wuma Street is the street I have been to the most. There is a lot of traffic and a constant stream, and an old man who takes out garbage is caught in it, which seems a bit discordant.
他已年过80，身穿一件橘色的外衣，一条黄色闪光带上面写着‘’黄河清洁志愿者”这七个字。老爷爷骑着垃圾车，每到一个地方，便我用自己那刻满岁月伤痕的手去举起垃圾桶，放到垃圾车里，用手将垃圾桶的轮子一推，垃圾就倒入垃圾车里。老爷爷不嫌脏，寒风将他那布满污水的手上的汗水吹得摇摇晃晃的，老爷爷的手微微摆动，瑟瑟发抖。
He is over 80 years old, wearing an orange coat and a yellow glitter strip with the words' lsquo 'written on it; ’ Yellow River Cleanup Volunteers; These seven words. Grandpa rides a garbage truck, and whenever he goes to a place, I use my hands, which are full of scars from time, to lift the garbage bin and put it in the truck. With my hands, I push the wheels of the garbage bin, and the garbage is poured into the truck. The old man didn't mind being dirty. The cold wind blew the sweat on his hands covered in sewage, making them sway and tremble slightly.
他的吃穿都不怎么的，就算是工作服也破破烂烂的，就是破了两三个洞，他也坚决不换，每次看到服装店里那“闪闪发光”的衣服，再看看自己，他便咽一口唾沫将视线移开。就连中饭也只吃那种便宜的饭，从不吃那种十元以上的面条，因为他觉得奢侈，他只吃那种一堆白饭中带一点酸菜和萝卜丝的那种便饭。寒风如同刀子一样刮在他的脸上，那双无神的眼睛盯着远方的酒店，手中扒着自己的饭。
His food and clothing are not very good, even his work clothes are tattered. Even if they have two or three holes, he is determined not to change them. Every time he sees them in the clothing store; Sparkling and shining; Looking at his clothes again, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva and averted his gaze. Even for lunch, he only eats cheap food and never eats noodles that cost more than 10 yuan. Because he feels luxurious, he only eats casual food with a little pickled Chinese cabbage and shredded radish in a pile of rice. The cold wind swept across his face like a knife, his lifeless eyes fixed on the distant hotel, clutching his own food in his hand.
当太阳还没露面的时候，老爷爷便开始工作，路上还没有一点人声，路灯还照着上夜班的人刚刚回家，老爷爷就摇摇晃晃的骑着他的垃圾车，从五马街骑到等等地方，最终他在一家包子店停下，从他那皱巴巴的衣服里掏出两元钱，买了一个带一点肉沫的包子啃了起来，用手接着掉下来的粉末，吃完了，还要将手心手背舔一次，便用那双冻得发紫的手去拿扫把扫起了落叶。
When the sun had not yet appeared, the old man began to work. There was no sound on the road, and the streetlights were still shining. Just as the night shift workers had just returned home, the old man rode his garbage truck unsteadily from Wuma Street to other places. Finally, he stopped at a steamed bun shop, took out two yuan from his wrinkled clothes, bought a steamed bun with a little bit of meat foam, and started gnawing on it. He continued to drop the powder with his hands. After finishing it, he had to lick the palms and backs of his hands once, and then used his hands, which were so cold that they turned purple, to take a broom and sweep up the fallen leaves.
寒风又吹了起来，那个拥有苍老的刻满岁月伤痕的面孔的老爷爷，又开始倒起了垃圾。日复一日，年复一年，摇摇晃晃的骑着垃圾车，恍恍惚惚的过着自己的日子……
The cold wind blew again, and the old man with a face engraved with the scars of time began to dump garbage again. Day after day, year after year, swaying on the garbage truck, living my life in a daze; …