他们在城市尽头，没有繁华的街市，闪亮的霓虹；在城市的尽头，只有破旧的棚户区，有饱经生活风霜的生命；在城市的尽头，有他们这样一群人。 让我怎样称呼他们？外来务工人员子女？农民子弟？亦或是农民工二代？不，我不想用这些冰冷的名字称呼他们，我多想叫着他们带着泥土气的乳名，拉着他们的小手，走近他们的生活…… 他们从小生长在故乡的青山绿水中，纯洁的灵魂在田野里抽穗拔节。在山野的风中，他们奔跑着，憧憬着。风从田野中吹过，吹进了城市，为了生计，为了未来，他们跟从父母来到了城市，在城市的尽头扎下了根。于是习惯了青山绿水的双眸第一次触碰到了高楼大厦、车水马龙。他们不知道怎样穿过六车道的马路，小小的手指怎么也数不清写字楼的层数。繁华的现代文明不曾给他们带来任何快乐，这一次，却在心上烙下了深深的痕迹。 他们背起书包，小心翼翼地融入城市的生活。可是却在“城市人”异样的眼光中，第一次明白了户口与暂住证的区别。他们都是父母心头的宝啊！却过早地承担了不属于这个年龄的负担。 放学回家，他们做好简单的晚饭，父母还在工地或菜场上劳作；午夜醒来，泪眼中城里的星空没有家乡的明亮；悄悄许愿，希望明天他们的打工子弟小学不会因交不出电费而被查封…… 然而，在他们日益长高的身体上，我看到了他们的成长。记得一位记者问一个打工子弟学校的孩子，学成后是否会回到家乡时，小姑娘毫不犹豫地说：当然，一定回去！那一刻，我差点落下泪来，为他们的成长。 记得那年春晚他们稚气的宣言：“我们的学校很小，但我们的成绩不差”“我们不和城里的孩子比爸爸”“北京的2008，也是我们的2008！”他们逐渐成熟，告别昨天的羞怯，开始迎接新的一天。 虽然，他们还在为不多的学费而苦恼；虽然，学校还是交不上水电费；虽然，还有好多体制还不够完善……虽然有好多个“虽然”，但是，只有一个“但是”就足够了，已经有好多视线转向他们，他们正在茁壮地成长。 太阳从地平线上升起，照亮了城市的尽头，照亮了他们的生活。 他们，终将会成为我们。 -------------------- They At the outskirt of the city, there are no bustling markets, no flashing neon lights; at the outskirt of the city, there stand the dilapidated shanty neighbourhood and hardship in life; at the outskirt of the city, you will see such a group - them. How shall I call them? Kids of seasonal workers? Farmer boys? or the second-generation migration farmers? No,I can't use these terms, which sound a bit too cold. How much I wish I could call them by their humble nicknames, hold their little hands, and become part of their lives... In their native land surrounded by green hills and creeks, they used to run in the wild, and their young minds wonder as seasons rotate. However, the wind blown across the field blows them to the city. To make a living, for a better future, they follow their parents and settle down here. With a pair of eyes so familiar with nature, they see, for the first time, high-rise buildings and busy traffic. They wonder how to cross a six-lane street. They are lost when counting building floors with their small fingers. Before modern civilization could bring any happiness to them, it first left a scar deep in their heart. They go to school with a backpack, trying to behave like the rest. But in the scrutinous eyes of the "city boys and girls", for the first time in their life, they realize there is a difference between residents and migrants. Also jewels of their own parents, but they have to assume the burden of life that is beyond their age. After school, they return home to cook while their parents are still busy working somewhere. Woke up at midnight, through tears, they discover that the stars in the city sky are not as bright as those in their hometown. They make a wish though - wishing their local farmer kids' school will not shut down if it fails to pay utility bills... However, as they grow taller, they grow mature. I remember an instance when a reporter asked a farmer school girl if she would return to her hometown in the future, she replied without any hesitation, "Sure, I will." At that moment, I almost cried for their growth. I also remember the voice of the little ones heard on the Chinese New Year TV show: "My hometown school may be smaller, but I still did great," "I don't want to compare my dad with the city boys' dads," "The Beijing 2008 Olympics is also mine." Slowly but surely, they stepped out of their shyness; one step at a time. Every day is a new day. Although they may still worry over their school fees, nothing is "small" in their terms; although their school may still struggle with its utility bills; although there are a lot of rooms to be desired for a lot of things...although there are a lot of "althoughs", but, only one "but" is enough, they already began to receive a lot of attention. They are doing better and coping well. The sun rises above the horizon, lighting up every corner of the city. It also lights up their lives. They, will eventually become us. --------------------------------- An essay received full score in the 2008 national college and university entrance examine, Shanghai district, China. Translated by Kido.