在这个夜晚，这个所有人的命运都还没有起航的夜晚。

火在燃烧，噼里啪啦地响，又一鼓声加了来。

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

cursing sharp stones,

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。

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。

so sing them with voices of thunder and rain，”

“in the dang of fire,

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

“and deep in our bohe old songs are waking

I will not lower my voice,”

by the light of the moon ,”

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

“and watches the stars and rehe pls ,

I will not cut my hair,

这场天盛宴，人们放肆歌开怀大笑。

I will not cut my hair,

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

the one who run barefoot,

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

会唱的跟着唱了起来，男声低沉。

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。

I will not lower my voice,”

余音未尽，笑声穿透冬季的小院，回响在空旷的原之上。

we will not lower our voice…”

she looks for her omens in the colors of stones,

洛雨醉了，她想舞。

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。

we will not cut our hair,

with a song and a broom,”

and dreams she reach them

藏家儿女，情奔放。

the one who runs barefoot,

“we are all brought forth out of darkness

目光相撞，他在微笑，眉温柔。

cursing sharp stones,

she sings heathen songs

歌声一半桀骜，一半温柔。

月光下，有卓玛起舞，谁的裙边飘。

那就吧，放下鼓，她拉上了木若。

女之，从不困于某一词。

in the curve of old bones,”

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,”

we are our mother&039;s savage daughters,

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,

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

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。

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。