“听听风吹过房子的声音。”她说。
"Listen to the sound of wind wuthering around the house," she said.
这是风吹过灌木或者一位观众窃窃私语所发出声音频率的上限，通常就是因为这些声音会将表演者的声音淹没。
That is the usual upper limit of the noise of wind rustling through bushes and of the murmurs of an audience, which might have drowned the actors out.
我非常热衷于在公园里远足（大约2-3小时），我经常带着相机，记事本和我的想法出门，倾听鸟叫虫鸣和风吹过树木的声音。
I’m a big fan of taking really long walks (between 2 and 3 hours) in the park. I usually bring my camera, a writing pad and my thoughts.
窗户敞着，她听见风吹过草丛的声音。 听起来像老虎尾巴弄出来的“嗖嗖”声。
Through the open window, she heard the wind blowing in the grass.
他刺耳的笑声好像三月里的风吹过树梢的声音。
但是只有风吹过果树的声音，花园里唯一的生物就只有几只白蛾。
But the only sound was the wind in the fruit trees, and the only creatures in the gardens were a few pale moths.
新屋顶将空间开向树冠和天空。变化的光线透过树枝，还能听到风吹过树林的声音。
The new roof opens up the house towards the tree tops and the sky. The changing light filtered through the branches. The sound of the wind in the trees.
最能让我联想起长洲的声音就是海风吹过木麻黄时发出的沙沙声。 木麻黄是亚热带常见的树种，树叶呈长针状，有点像松针。
One of the iconic sounds I associate with Cheung Chau is the whispering of the wind through the casuarina trees, a long-needled pine-like tree which thrives in sub-tropical coastal environments.
人们在小声地互相交谈，声音像是微风吹过草地，而鸟叫的声音显得格外响亮。
People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far.
风轻轻地低声吹着，吹过百叶窗，吹在窗上，轻软得好像羽毛一般；有时候数声叹息，几乎叫人想起夏季长夜漫漫和风吹动树叶的声音。
The wind has gently murmured through the binds, or puffed with feathery softness against the windows, and occasionally sighed like a summer zephyr lifting the leaves along, the livelong night.
有风吹过草间，凉凉的，还恍惚有细小的声音，落在心上，是一辈子的痕迹。
Kusama has breeze, cool, and also a small trance sound, landed in mind is that traces of life.
风轻轻地低声吹着，吹过百叶窗，吹在窗上，轻软得好像羽毛一般；有时候数声叹息，几乎叫人想起夏季长夜漫漫和风吹动树叶的声音。
Thee wind has gently murmured through the blinds, or puffed with feathery softness against the Windows, and occasionally sighed like a summer zephyr lifting the leaves along, the livelong night.
每当海风吹过这些洞孔，岩石就发出一种可怕而强烈的声音，就象是为遭了难的灵魂唱挽歌。
When the winds blew through the holes, the rocks emitted an eerie keening sound, like a dirge of lost souls.
不是风吹过叶子的声音，不是清晨拂过叶片的微风的声音，而是树自己的声音，树干的声音和树根的静寂之音。
Not the sound of wind through the leaves, not the breeze of a morning that flutters the leaves, but its own sound, the sound of the trunk and the silent sound of the roots.
风轻轻地低声吹着，吹过百叶窗，吹在窗上，轻软得好像羽毛一般；有时候数声叹息，几乎叫人想起夏季长夜漫漫和风吹动树叶的声音。
Thee wind has gently murmured through the binds, or puffed with feathery softness against the windows, and occasionally sighed like a summer zephyr lifting the leaves along, the livelong night.
亲爱的，这就是风吹过树顶的声音啊。
亲爱的，这就是风吹过树顶的声音啊。
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