当太阳彻底沉入大地之后，寒气自夜的角落开始升起。风裹挟着这些明确的寒冷加速跳跃着，它们冲上树梢，开始围攻天地。

After the sun had vanished beneath the earth, a chill began to rise from the unseen corners of the night. The wind, infused with a sharp and certain cold, leapt through the dark in swift, uneven strides. It climbed the treetops— and began its siege upon the sky and the soil.

你见过月亮吗？明天问晚风。见过啊，它啊，早在你看不见的昨夜被我和着树丛一起吹离了轨道，自由自在了。

Have you seen the moon? Ask the evening breeze tomorrow. "Of course I have," it'll whisper. "Last night—when your eyes were elsewhere— I blew her right off her path, wrapped her in the rustling arms of the treetops. Now she's drifting freely, light as a secret, going wherever she pleases."

午夜来临，夜漆黑了一切，只有风们换上了白色的盛装，成为此时世间唯一的鸟群。

At midnight, the night drowns everything in darkness. Only the winds remain— draped in white ceremonial robes, they become the last flock of birds in the world.

风们为了横渡时间，从飞鸟幻化成了飞马，虽不曾亲眼看到过，但是被它们飞驰而过，已经失去鲜度的时间里还残存着它们踏破一切的巨大马蹄印。

To cross time, the winds shed their feathers and became winged horses. No one has seen them—not directly— but in the faded corridors of time they've already outrun, they've left behind vast hoofprints, breaking through all that once seemed immovable.

在德国这么多年，我从没参加过狂欢节游行。而且，随着年纪越来越大，现在不仅不参与，甚至需要远远逃离。

Sometimes I wonder: is it joy that people love about Carnival—or the rare permission it grants? For a few days, you’re allowed to become an animal. And everyone claps.

不过，它们最爱模仿的形态果然还是它们在这世间最要好的朋友们——鸟类。

Still, the shape the winds love best to become is that of their oldest, dearest companions—birds.

似乎在这个宇宙里所有的事物都要遵循抛物线的生长轨迹，而所有的高潮都要奏响那个最强音才肯坠落。

It seems that in this universe, all things must arc along a parabola— and every climax must sound its most violent note before it collapses.

今天天气转暖，气温从零下一二度一下飙到了十度以上。本以为可以多开会儿窗透透气，谁曾想一会儿功夫就见好几只苍蝇在屋里飞呀飞。春天还没来，苍蝇已经来了？

“Always you foreigners!” she shouted, pointing at spilled paper near the bin. I hadn’t touched it. But I also hadn’t expected the dog, or the sudden fury. My voice came back before my fear did: “Control your dog!”