不论白天或黑夜,也不论是与众言笑抑或清夜独坐,那种忧伤总是被风吹来,这风的脚步也总是停在我的耳边。风,来自故乡,那从泥土深处直透而出的草原的味道,那干牛粪熊熊燃起的晚饭的浓情,那一群群无缰骏马在茫茫暮色中扯响的嘶鸣,这时一起涌人眼前、耳中、心中。风停在我的耳边,泪就滴落在 Whether the day or the night, whether it is with the public laughter or sitting alone on the night, the kind of sorrow is always the wind, the pace of the wind always stay in my ears. The wind, from the hometown, the taste of the grassland penetrating through the depths of the earth, the concentration of the supper that dried cow dung, the neighbouring no hesitation in the vast twilight, Into the eyes, ears, heart. Wind stopped in my ear, tears dripping on