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

cursing sharp stones,

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

哼唱直白而抒情，曲调悠扬，有人在跟着打节拍。

I will not cut my hair,

we will not lower our voice…”

the one who run barefoot,

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

目光相撞，他在微笑，眉温柔。

I will not lower my voice,”

with a song and a broom,”

we are our mother&039;s savage daughters,

歌声一半桀骜，一半温柔。

I will not cut my hair,

在这个夜晚，这个所有人的命运都还没有起航的夜晚。

“we are all brought forth out of darkness

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

那就吧，放下鼓，她拉上了木若。

“in the dang of fire,

“and deep in our bohe old songs are waking

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。

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。

余音未尽，笑声穿透冬季的小院，回响在空旷的原之上。

月光下，有卓玛起舞，谁的裙边飘。

火在燃烧，噼里啪啦地响，又一鼓声加了来。

we will not cut our hair,

这场天盛宴，人们放肆歌开怀大笑。

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

不会的模仿着调调轻哼，还有的也起起了舞，鼓声不停。

in the curve of old bones,”

into this world through blood and through pain,”

女之，从不困于某一词。

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。

by the light of the moon ,”

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。

and dreams she reach them

she sings heathen songs

洛雨醉了，她想舞。

cursing sharp stones,

会唱的跟着唱了起来，男声低沉。

I will not lower my voice,”

“and watches the stars and rehe pls ,

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。

so sing them with voices of thunder and rain，”

藏家儿女，情奔放。

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

the one who runs barefoot,

she looks for her omens in the colors of stones,

I am my mother&039;s savage daughter,