这是一只小鸟,不管雾有多浓,他都能轻快地飞到平时栖息的鸟巢。他将尖尖的鸟喙伸进翅膀,就那么睡了。他一点儿也不担心什么就睡着了,只有热血在慢慢变冷,脉搏也跳动得越来越微弱,到了半夜,或者是清晨,他就从鸟巢上掉了下来——死了。 This is a small bird. No matter how thick the fog is, he can fly to the bird nest that usually inhabits. He slid the pointed beak into his wings and he fell asleep. He fell asleep without worrying anything at all. Only his blood was slowly getting colder, and his pulse was beating more and more weakly. At midnight, or early in the morning, he fell from the nest — dead.