我想握住你的手，我的民工兄弟。
I want to hold your hand, my migrant brother.
在这个城市里，活动着许多这样的人。他们戴着安全帽，手抄着家伙，走向工地。一幢幢大楼拔地而起，他们就像蜘蛛一样在那里织着生活。是的，在世界上所有的作品中，我最欣赏蜘蛛网这幅杰作，真是精妙绝伦；同样地，民工编织的大楼，也是世界上最美丽的杰作。
There are many such people in this city. They went to the construction site with their helmets on and their hands on the guy. Building after building, they weave life like spiders. Yes, of all the works in the world, I like spider web best. It's really wonderful. Similarly, the building woven by migrant workers is also the most beautiful masterpiece in the world.
我有时感觉到他们真是在创造奇迹。
I sometimes feel that they are really working miracles.
而我们的城市竟是民工一砖一砖，用他们的血，用他们的汗，用他们的灵巧和智慧，给创造出来的。
But our city is made by migrant workers brick by brick, with their blood, with their sweat, with their dexterity and wisdom.
他们自在地生活着。这个城市往往有另外一种眼光，它们仿佛被安在银河系上，俯瞰着眼下衣着腌的民工们。可这些民工们全然不顾，仿佛沾满灰泥的工作装比鄙夷的眼光更高尚。他们从工地上下来，收拾了家伙，进入他们临时搭建的工棚，敲起饭缸，旁若无人地唱着。
They live in freedom. This city often has a different vision. They seem to be installed in the galaxy, overlooking the migrant workers in pickled clothes. But these migrant workers do not care at all, as if the work clothes covered with plaster are more noble than the disdainful eyes. They came down from the construction site, picked up the guys, entered their temporary work shed, knocked out the rice VAT, and sang like nobody else.
他们的歌声并不好听，有时候近乎野嚎，又五音不全，把好端端的流行歌曲改造得面目全非，但他们唱的是自己的歌曲。我非常羡慕他们，羡慕他们真正生活在自己的世界里。有时候在夜间，一阵风从身旁席卷而过，一位民工蹬着三轮车扯着嗓子在喊他不成调的歌曲，我同样七尺男儿，为什么就缺乏这份潇洒和胆量呢？我也喜欢在路上哼着小曲，那确实是哼的，只在嗓子眼里打转，只有自己的耳朵能够听到，那声音是多么微弱，多么可怜，多么微不足道，一阵旋风就被淹没在民工歌声的汪洋大海中。
Their songs are not pleasant to hear. Sometimes they are almost howling, and their five tones are incomplete. They transform the good pop songs into different ones, but they sing their own songs. I envy them very much. I envy them that they really live in their own world. Sometimes at night, a gust of wind swept by. A migrant worker was riding a tricycle and yelling at his tuneless songs. I am also a seven foot man. Why do I lack this natural and courageous? I also like humming on the road. It's really humming. It's only in my voice. Only my ears can hear it. How weak, how pitiful, how insignificant it is. A whirlwind is submerged in the ocean of migrant workers' singing.
他们是真正的原生态了。
They are the real original ecology.
上海美术馆前有一群雕塑，我觉得那雕塑的就是一群民工。一群民工，松松散散地面对着大上海最繁华的南京路，你或许觉得有失雅观，然而这恰是艺术家的匠心所在。正是这雕塑的群像，构成一个时代我们中国最本色的生活。
There are a group of sculptures in front of the Shanghai Art Museum. I think they are a group of migrant workers. A group of migrant workers, loose and scattered, face the most prosperous Nanjing Road in Shanghai. You may think it's not elegant, but it's the artist's ingenuity. It is the sculptures that make up the most natural life of China in an era.
我看到过这样一群民工，他们住在不属于他们的房子里，像作画一样，用他们手中的粉刷在涂抹着不属于他们的城市豪华的生活。他们的辛劳是为了“城市更美好”。我有时候把他们请到我的家里来，让他们帮我修理坏了的淋浴器或抽水马桶，吃个便饭，如果有酒也顺便喝上两盅，有什么不舍得扔的玩意儿我爱人就慷慨地送给他们，他们就感激涕零，就把有些费用给我们免了，就认我们是这个城市中难得的朋友，这个时候我就公开宣布：我也是民工！
I have seen such a group of migrant workers living in houses that do not belong to them. They paint the luxurious life of the city that does not belong to them like painting. Their hard work is for "Better City". Sometimes I invite them to my home, ask them to repair the broken shower or toilet, have a meal, drink two cups of wine by the way, if there is anything I don't want to throw away, my wife will generously give it to them, they will be grateful, they will give us some expenses free, they will recognize us as a rare friend in this city, this time I will Public announcement: I am also a migrant worker!
我也是民工啊！我有时候西装笔挺走在城市的天空下，以一种高昂的姿态，但血和肤色掩盖不了我民工的本色。我和你们同样来自贫困的乡村，熟悉乡村的每一寸土每一棵草每一片庄稼，甚至能够分辨谁家树上知了的叫声。也就是因为一张考卷，从此把我们分成这面和那面。
I'm also a migrant worker! Sometimes I walk under the sky of the city in a straight suit, with a high posture, but the blood and skin color can not cover up my migrant workers. You and I are also from the poor countryside. We are familiar with every inch of land, every grass and every crop in the countryside. We can even distinguish the cicadas from the trees. That is to say, a test paper divides us into one side and the other.
无非是机遇！
It's just an opportunity!
所以，我想握住你的手，我的民工兄弟！我们是兄弟啊，本是同根生，何分作城市的正面与背面？兄弟！
So, I want to hold your hand, my migrant brother! We are brothers. We are born from the same root. How can we distinguish the front and back of a city? Brother!
