午夜的弥撒。大教堂的中世纪哥特式石柱在无数烛光的照射下,像高耸入云的火焰,像熊熊燃烧的荆棘。在宽广、肃穆的圣殿中,穿着白袍的儿童唱诗班的如清澈泉水的歌声,深深地洗涤了我们的灵魂,使我们感到获得了新生。也许就在那边的某块石壁上,曾经镌刻着如今已尘封的两个字:命运。 Mass at midnight. The medieval gothic columns of the cathedral are illuminated by countless candlelights, like the soaring flames and the burning thorns. In the broad and solemn sanctuary, the singing of the children’s choir in a white robe, such as the clear spring water, deeply washed our souls and made us feel new. Perhaps on a certain block of stone on that side, there are two words that are now dusted: fate.