呼伦贝尔草原,那匹白马,走失了。我,无数次穿越静静的伊敏河的黎明。穿越,太阳将穿越的朝霞。穿越,朝霞下面如茵的碧草。穿越,毡房人家零散的炊烟。还是没看见那匹白马。我的皮鞭,已经破旧,已经甩不响,也甩不出一个好看的弧线。我的围巾,已经褪色,看不出黄莺草早春的颜色,裹紧过我的黑发我的脸。 Hulunbuir grasslands, that white horse, lost. I, numerous times through the dawn of the quiet Yimin. Crossing, the sun will cross the glow. Through, glow following the green grass. Through, felt room scattered smoke. Still did not see that white horse. My leather whip, already shabby, has not shuffled, but also throw a nice arc. My scarf has faded, I can not see the color of the spring grass of Orioles. I wrap my face against my dark hair.