日暮时分,远山渐渐隐退在云雾里,倦鸟鸣起哨音,疾疾把天空的弦线划入山林静谧的呼吸里。当脚踏上并不崎岖也不平坦的道路时,厚厚的黄土地与滚滚绿浪迷惘了我的眼。当中巴急急驰过,在一片滚滚烟尘的浑浊空气的追随中,引发了我对村庄的回忆。 At dawn, the distant mountains gradually receded into the clouds. The weary bird whispered, and the sick strings of the sky were drawn into the quiet breathing of the mountains. When the footsteps were not rugged and bumpy, the thick yellow land and rolling green waves confused my eyes. When China and Pakistan rushed past, in the turbulent air of rolling smoke, it triggered my memories of the village.