It is the moonlit night of March; the sweet smell of henna is in the air; my flute lies on the earth neglected and your garland of flowers is unfinished.
这是三月的月明之夜；空气里有凤仙花的芬芳；我的横笛抛在地上，你的花串也没有编成。
Simon picked up the flute and began playing. The clear sweet sound floated out over the trees and down into the misty, early morning valley.
西蒙拿起长笛开始吹奏。清脆悦耳的笛声从长笛飘出，飘到树上，飘进清晨雾霭迷蒙的山谷。
In that cold, hard air the sweet notes of the flute rang out.
在那寒冷的空中回荡着甜美的笛声。
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