像要撕裂什么,那呼啸的风要把它的愤-怒、它的悲伤、它的疼痛、它的忧郁,全都撕成碎片,让这天地之间的万物都要-染上沉疴,陪它一块儿死去。这是雪域高原,风中有雪,这是冬天,水已成冰。风中夹裹着寒气,让这世界完全失色。山冈之上不见一丝草木,田地之间,已是黄沙漫天。成群结队的鸟早已返回到了巢窠,牛羊在圈里嚼着干草,狗也不吠,人已无踪。 Like what is to be torn apart, the whistling wind wants its anger, anger, its sadness, its pain, its melancholy, all torn to pieces, and everything in this world must be It died together. This is a snow-covered plateau, the snow in the wind, it is winter, water has become ice. The wind caught the chill, so that the world completely pale. No hint of vegetation above the hills, between the fields, it is sand over the sky. Flocks of birds have already returned to the nests, cattle and sheep in the circle chewing hay, dogs do not bark, people have disappeared.