暮春的青海湖还没有完全解冻,湖水拍击着还未消融的冰块,宣告着对夏天的等待。半冰半水的湖面上泼洒了夕阳,于是也在朝圣者的步伐声中泛起了些圣洁的光芒。他想他四月的家乡已经是一片斑斓,而这青海湖岸边还颇带有一丝萧索的气息。放牧人赶着牛群哼着小调悠闲地走过,成群的飞鸟在天际画出美丽的弧线又消失不见,眼窝深陷颧骨高耸的朴素藏民绕着湖边一步三叩地送别草原上的最后一抹霞光。他疑惑他们似乎并不着急,仿佛只是慢慢地沿着心中的道路前行。 Late Qinghai Lake has not yet completely thaw, the lake slapped the ice has not yet ablation, announced the summer of waiting. Half the ice and half water on the lake splashed the sunset, so the pace of pilgrims also started some holy light. He thought his hometown in April was already gorgeous, and the coast of Qinghai Lake still had a hint of lulliness. Herdsmen rush herd humming a small tune to walk leisurely, flocks of birds in the horizon to draw a beautiful arc and disappear, orbital deep zygomatic towering simple Tibetan people around the lake step by step, The last touch of glimmer He puzzled that they did not seem anxious, as if only slowly along the path of the heart.