The trees twisting in the wind and a child swaddledin a jumble of coloured blankets, lying in a wooden hand cart.
树木在风中轻轻摇晃,一个孩子被包裹在彩色毯子做成的襁褓里,躺在一架木质手推车上。
We have been with child, we have been in pain, we have as it were brought forth wind; we have not wrought any deliverance in the earth; neither have the inhabitants of the world fallen.
我们也曾怀孕疼痛,所产的竟像风一样,我们在地上未曾行什么拯救的事。世上的居民也未曾败落。
When the days of relentless wind knife engraved parents forehead, time and dyed their hair white, I am not a child, I have grown up.
当岁月的风刀无情地刻着父母的额头,岁月染白了他们的头发时,我不在是孩子,我长大了。
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