I put down my book and watched the white smoke drift over the lawn. I tried to inhale. and not to exhale. I enjoyed this smell very much and I wanted to keep it inside me.
我放下手里的书,望着青白烟渐渐地铺满了草地,尽量只吸进不呼出,我很珍惜这味道,我要让它留在我这儿。
They are so fragile, so ethereal, that it seems even the sound of the rivers might shatter them as they appear to drift like crystal smoke along the Banks.
它们有如烟雾般飘渺轻盈,似是沿着河岸飘去,却又脆弱得不堪一击,仿佛潺潺水声也能把它们震碎。
There was a drift of smoke above the trees.
树林上空飘浮着一股烟。
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