北地,当冻土显露黑色,微微有一些潮湿的时候,土仍然坚硬,而草芽已经钻出来了。人实在无法想象,像纸一样柔软的草,怎么能钻透泥土的封锁;无法想象水洗过一样新鲜的草,是怎样度过漫长的冬天的。草在初生的时候,抱紧身体,宛如一根针,好像对土地恳求:我不会占太多的地方。而它出生的土地,总是黑黑的,这是它的产床。黑色总是令人感动,好像泪水盈满了土地 In the north, when the permafrost shows black and slightly damp, the soil is still hard and the grass bud has been drilled. People can not imagine, as soft as paper, grass, how can we penetrate the blockade of the soil; can not imagine the same fresh water washed, how to spend the long winter. Grass at birth, clung to the body, like a needle, like pleading for the land: I will not take up too much. Its land of birth, always dark, is its birth bed. Black is always touching, as if tears are full of land