一簇烈焰，淡了谈话的人们，一面鼓，两个忘了旁人自顾唱的姑娘。

藏家儿女，情奔放。

in the curve of old bones,”

“and deep in our bohe old songs are waking

火在燃烧，噼里啪啦地响，又一鼓声加了来。

I will not cut my hair,

“my mother&039;s daughter is a savage,

洛雨醉了，她想舞。

洛雨她们的歌打开了气氛，后面歌载舞，酒香鼓声，酥油茶糍粑烤牦就大蒜，笑声一直持续到后半夜。

“and watches the stars and rehe pls ,

in the faces of cats in the falling of feathers,”

会唱的跟着唱了起来，男声低沉。

余音未尽，笑声穿透冬季的小院，回响在空旷的原之上。

“my mother&039;s child dances in the darkness ,

“in the dang of fire,

she looks for her omens in the colors of stones,

“we are our mother&039;s savage daughters,

she sings heathen songs

so sing them with voices of thunder and rain，”

cursing sharp stones,

这场天盛宴，人们放肆歌开怀大笑。

the one who run barefoot,

cursing sharp stones,

在这个夜晚，这个所有人的命运都还没有起航的夜晚。

歌声一半桀骜，一半温柔。

and dreams she reach them

I will not cut my hair,

the one who runs barefoot,

不会的模仿着调调轻哼，还有的也起起了舞，鼓声不停。

into this world through blood and through pain,”

I will not lower my voice,”

with a song and a broom,”

女之，从不困于某一词。

“we are all brought forth out of darkness

we are our mother&039;s savage daughters,

we will not cut our hair,

I am my mother&039;s savage daughter,

月光下，有卓玛起舞，谁的裙边飘。

女不应该被丢掉野，她们也可以肆意张狂，她们也可以无自由。

I will not lower my voice,”

木若看到了坐在那里喝酒的邬川，火光照亮了他棱角分明的侧脸，他在和旁边的帕拉大叔说着什么，又抬看过来。

by the light of the moon ,”

“I am my mother&039;s savage daughter,

那就吧，放下鼓，她拉上了木若。

we will not lower our voice…”

目光相撞，他在微笑，眉温柔。

她暂时脱离了自己的生活，以一个路人的份，看那些她不曾拥有过的人生，受他们的喜怒哀乐，问自己路在何方。

这是木若最开心的一次旅程，自由的躯在祖国西大地上奔跑，灵魂在沿途的风光人情中寻找自我。

哼唱直白而抒情，曲调悠扬，有人在跟着打节拍。

“I am my mother&039;s savage daughter,