管风琴又吼出滚滚巨雷，激越的轰鸣把空气化成音乐，翻腾向前，叩击人们的心灵。
Again the pealing organ heaves its thrilling thunders, compressing air into music, and rolling it forth upon the soul. What long-drawn cadences!
它们叩击布满铁锈，为惯性驱动的现实，也叩击布满铁锈，为功利所遮蔽的心灵。
They hammer on the rusting reality, which is driven by its inertia, and the rusting human souls, which are prompted by utility.
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