Haze – 霾 – English

99%
10 paragraph translated (10 in total)
Read or translate in

You are viewing an old revision of this post, from February 25, 2016 @ 06:00:27. See below for differences between this version and the current revision.

The sun is covered by a layer of gray yarn, its colour has gone slightly pale.

Grey is the subject. Grey day, grey wall, grey snow, grey world. Even I have been touched by a stroke of grey, a faint touch, but enough to cover both my eyes. When, and from afar, will a wild goose come flying, a gentle breeze blowing, to cast away the grey, cast away this cover from my eyes? But as it comes, I see it in the distance as grey point, and I am thinking, it is a grey point. To see the world through grey is spleen, depression.

How can the sky be so low, the pressure so high that people forget to breathe, we’re stopped in our step, trapped where we are. One day, two days waiting for rescue, waiting for the face of the sun not to be pale. One day, two days, we wait. When our temples are grey, we will still be waiting. When we enter the coffin, we will still be waiting. Is it that we can only wait, wait and see, for time to get old, for the world to be spent, for homes to get old and grey?

I want to escape, escape from the prison, and I also want to rescue people, rescue people and become a hero, become beloved by the millions. However, who am I? I’m too small, after all, this is just haze, grey haze. My personal resistance, no matter how big a wave it raises, will only be a ray, a stroke.

Sitting, watching, waiting. No, I don’t want this, we always have to do something, even if it’s just push on our cheeks and desperately blow out. Or maybe I can blow the grey away, blow away that thin yarn. In fact, I know this is just wishful thinking, but even if it doesn’t achieve anything, at least I’ve done it, we’ve done it. As long as we do something, we won’t be just sitting, watching, waiting.

I miss things, I miss the smell of previous winters. This was a taste of the sun, the sun in the sky and the sun on earth. And there was the taste of cold, that knife-like cold, adding cut to inside my nose, that is the taste I miss.

It’s been long since I last tasted it, even if occasionally the sun breaks through the barrier and shines on my face through the window. I can only feel it through the window, feel its warm taste. The glass now has a layer of gray at the surface, and I’m afraid, really afraid. When I see the gray, I can’t do anything.

In fact, I want to escape, when I escape and go there, life will continue. A line has been tied to the stake, and I can only go in a grinding circle. Jump out of the circle, let go of everything? To be honest, I don’t have that courage, I haven’t actually ever had any.

霾,那个灰色纱,改变了好多好多东西。我只是想,我们该做点什么了,让世界变回去,变回我们曾经熟悉的样子。这难吗?这好难,好难。

我生活在这个年代,赶上了这段岁月。物质生活丰富的同时,它们也给我带来了它们的附属品。承受,我们要承受这代价。或许,10年,或许20年,或许,我们看不见。蓝色高高的天,白色无染的雪。我真的希望,让孩子们看一眼,看一眼那样的世界。就如同我看过一眼一样,世界是那么的醇粹,没有灰色的,灰色的纱曼。曾经天天如此,那不是偶然。



Source : 新浪博客

Article Revisions:

Changes:

February 25, 2016 @ 06:00:27Current Revision
Content
<p>The sun is covered by a layer of gray yarn, its colour has gone slightly pale. </p> <p>The sun is covered by a layer of gray yarn, its colour has gone slightly pale. </p>
<p>Grey is the subject. Grey day, grey wall, grey snow, grey world. Even I have been touched by a stroke of grey, a faint touch, but enough to cover both my eyes. <span style="color: #ff6600;">When, and from afar, will a wild goose come flying, a gentle breeze blowing, to cast away the grey, cast away this cover from my eyes? But as it comes, I see it in the distance as grey point, and I am thinking, it is a grey point.</span> To see the world through grey is spleen, depression. </p> <p>Grey is the subject. Grey day, grey wall, grey snow, grey world. Even I have been touched by a stroke of grey, a faint touch, but enough to cover both my eyes. <span style="color: #ff6600;">When, and from afar, will a wild goose come flying, a gentle breeze blowing, to cast away the grey, cast away this cover from my eyes? But as it comes, I see it in the distance as grey point, and I am thinking, it is a grey point.</span> To see the world through grey is spleen, depression. </p>
<p>How can the sky be so low, the pressure so high that people forget to breathe, we’re stopped in our step, trapped where we are. One day, two days waiting for rescue, waiting for the face of the sun not to be pale. One day, two days, we wait. When our temples are grey, we will still be waiting. When we enter the coffin, we will still be waiting. Is it that we can only wait, wait and see, for time to get old, for the world to be spent, for homes to get old and grey? </p> <p>How can the sky be so low, the pressure so high that people forget to breathe, we’re stopped in our step, trapped where we are. One day, two days waiting for rescue, waiting for the face of the sun not to be pale. One day, two days, we wait. When our temples are grey, we will still be waiting. When we enter the coffin, we will still be waiting. Is it that we can only wait, wait and see, for time to get old, for the world to be spent, for homes to get old and grey? </p>
<p>I want to escape, escape from the prison, and I also want to rescue people, rescue people and become a hero, become beloved by the millions. However, who am I? I'm too small, after all, this is just haze, grey haze. My personal resistance, no matter how big a wave it raises, will only be a ray, a stroke. </p> <p>I want to escape, escape from the prison, and I also want to rescue people, rescue people and become a hero, become beloved by the millions. However, who am I? I'm too small, after all, this is just haze, grey haze. My personal resistance, no matter how big a wave it raises, will only be a ray, a stroke. </p>
<p>Sitting, watching, waiting. No, I don't want this, we always have to do something, even if it's just push on our cheeks and desperately blow out. Or maybe I can blow the grey away, blow away that thin yarn. In fact, I know this is just wishful thinking, but even if it doesn't achieve anything, at least I've done it, we've done it. As long as we do something, we won't be just sitting, watching, waiting. </p> <p>Sitting, watching, waiting. No, I don't want this, we always have to do something, even if it's just push on our cheeks and desperately blow out. Or maybe I can blow the grey away, blow away that thin yarn. In fact, I know this is just wishful thinking, but even if it doesn't achieve anything, at least I've done it, we've done it. As long as we do something, we won't be just sitting, watching, waiting. </p>
<p>I miss things, I miss the smell of previous winters. This was a taste of the sun, the sun in the sky and the sun on earth. And there was the taste of cold, that knife-like cold, adding cut to inside my nose, that is the taste I miss. </p> <p>I miss things, I miss the smell of previous winters. This was a taste of the sun, the sun in the sky and the sun on earth. And there was the taste of cold, that knife-like cold, adding cut to inside my nose, that is the taste I miss. </p>
<p>It's been long since I last tasted it, even if occasionally the sun breaks through the barrier and shines on my face through the window. I can only feel it through the window, feel its warm taste. The glass now has a layer of gray at the surface, and I'm afraid, really afraid. When I see the gray, I can't do anything. </p> <p>It's been long since I last tasted it, even if occasionally the sun breaks through the barrier and shines on my face through the window. I can only feel it through the window, feel its warm taste. The glass now has a layer of gray at the surface, and I'm afraid, really afraid. When I see the gray, I can't do anything. </p>
<p>In fact, I want to escape, when I escape and go there, life will continue. A line has been tied to the stake, and I can only go in a grinding circle. Jump out of the circle, let go of everything? To be honest, I don't have that courage, I haven't actually ever had any. </p> <p>In fact, I want to escape, when I escape and go there, life will continue. A line has been tied to the stake, and I can only go in a grinding circle. Jump out of the circle, let go of everything? To be honest, I don't have that courage, I haven't actually ever had any. </p>
<p>霾,那个灰色纱,改变了好多好多东西。我只是想,我们该做点什么了,让世界变回去,变回我们曾经熟悉的样子。这难吗?这好难,好难。</p>  
<p>我生活在这个年代,赶上了这段岁月。物质生活丰富的同时,它们也给我带来了它们的附属品。承受,我们要承受这代价。或许,10年,或许20年,或许,我们看不见。蓝色高高的天,白色无染的雪。我真的希望,让孩子们看一眼,看一眼那样的世界。就如同我看过一眼一样,世界是那么的醇粹,没有灰色的,灰色的纱曼。曾经天天如此,那不是偶然。</p> <p>Haze, that gray yarn, has changed many many things. I'm only thinking, what we should do now, we should bring the world back, back to the way we once knew it. Is this hard? It is hard, so hard. </p>
  <p>I live in this era, the years are rushing past. Material life is rich, and brings me all its accessories. Bear, we must bear the price of it. In 10 years perhaps, or in 20, we won't be able to see. The tall blue sky, the immaculate snow. I really hope that our children will be able to see it, cast their eyes on this world. Just like I was able to see it, the world this way is so intoxicating, without grey, without the grey yarn. Once it's how it was every day, not once in a while. </p>

Note: Spaces may be added to comparison text to allow better line wrapping.

About Michael Broughton