Question

求翻译啊~~英文

晚雪尚未化净，山野还是一片斑驳。每天，黑马驹喝了一小桶牛奶以后，常在柔软的草地上挺直脖颈，轻轻跃起，又缓缓卧下，久久地凝望着山峦和流云。我和索米娅(Somiya)在山坡上拾粪回来时，总喜欢鼓起腮，尖尖地打个嗯哨；或者拖长声音喊一声“呵——依——”黑马驹会像灵巧的兔子一样，蹦蹦跳跳地，躲闪着它害怕的马莲草丛和牛粪堆，用那让人心疼又美丽无比的步法飞一般朝我们奔来。我们则扔下筐，帮它把弄脏的黑皮毛擦净，把歪了的红布护身符挂正，把我们省下来的月饼块，一块块地喂给它吃。远处，奶奶飘着一头银发，勤奋地忙碌着，挤奶、拴牛犊，像是为着一项神圣的使命。我们当然不让它在外面过夜，晚上总是用软羊毛绳把它拴在包里的炉火旁。小马驹加入了我们的家，我们四个愉快地生活着，享受着它给我们带来的无限乐趣。
奶奶在情在意地唱着，没料到，她还是一个歌手呢！在她拖出婉转的长长的尾音时，她的嗓音嘶哑而高亢，似乎她能随便唱出很难唱的花音，也许是我以前听惯了学校教的那些节奏欢快的儿童歌曲吧，这朴直古老的民歌，使我觉得那么新奇。索米娅和我对望着，连气也不敢出，呆呆地听着奶奶自我陶醉的吟唱。奶奶唱的是一个哥哥骑着一匹美丽绝伦的骏马跋涉着迢迢的路程，穿越了茫茫的草原，去寻找他的妹妹的故事。她总是在一个曲折无穷的尾腔上咏叹不已，直到把我们折磨够了才简单地用一两个词告诉我们这一步寻找的结果。那骑手哥哥一次次地总是找不到久别的妹妹，连我们在一旁听着都为他心急如焚。哦，这是多么新鲜，多么动人的歌啊，它像一道清清的雪水溪，像一阵吹得人身心透明的风，浸漫过我的肌肤，轻抚着我的心......我失神地默立在草地上，握紧拳头听着。神妙的曲调在我心灵中唤起的阵阵感动，渐渐地化成一匹浑身宛如黑缎的、昂首长嘶的骏马；这匹骏马的一举足一甩鬃都在我脑海里印下了那么深、那么逼真的印象。

Answer 1

Night snow not net, mountain or a mottled. Every day, a little black foal to drink milk, often in the soft grass straight neck, gently and slowly rise, lying down, a long time staring at the mountains and clouds. I and Suomiya ( Somiya ) on the hillside to collect manure back, always likes to have sharp gills, hit a well whistle; or an elongated voice shouting " Oh -- in --" black foals like clever rabbit, skipping, dodge it scared the Malian grass and Niu Fendui, with that people love and beautiful footwork flying coming for us. We dropped the basket, help it to wipe dirty black hair, the distortion of the red amulet hanging is, our province down the moon blocks, pieces of feeding it to eat. Distant, grandma with a silver hair, hard busy, milking, tethered to the calf, as for a sacred mission. We certainly don't let it stay out all night, night always use soft wool rope tied it in the bag by the fire. The Colts joined our home, our four living happily, enjoying it brings us infinite pleasure.
Grandma in the care to sing, did not expect, she is a singer! In her out of soft long tail, her voice is hoarse and loud, as if she could easily sing very difficult to sing Kanon, maybe I've heard schools teach those rhythm of children's songs, which are ancient folk song, made me feel so strange. Somiya and I look at each other, with the dare, he listened to the grandma indulge in self-delusion. Grandma sing is a brother rides a beautiful horse travelling far away, across the vast grasslands, to find his sister's story. She is always in a meandering endless tail cavity aria unceasingly, until we tortured enough to simply use one or two words to tell us this step search results. The rider brother repeatedly always find long-lost sister, even we listened as he is burning. Oh, this is so fresh, so touching song Oh, it looks like a clear snow Creek, like a blown the person and the transparent wind, dip over my skin, touch my heart ... I vacantly stood on the grass, clenched fist listen. Wonderful melody in my mind to blast a moving, gradually turned into a horse was like a black satin, head neighing steed; the horse is a very a bristle in my mind under the Indian so deep, so vivid impression.

Answer 2

The late snow was yet to melt,here and there all over the mountain. Every day, after drinking a keg of milk, the dark horse would often stretch his neck on the soft grassland , leaping gently, and then slowly lie down, gazing at the mountains and clouds for a long time.After Suomiya and I picked up the manure on the hillside, we'd always like to muster our cheeks, to play one sharp whistle; or called out continually"Ahh---Yee".Then the dark horse would be like a smart rabbit, bouncing a little, dodging the dreadful Malian grass and cow dung heap and swiftly running towards us with heartbreaking yet extremely beautiful paces.Then we would drop the basket,to help it to wipe the stain from its black fur,putting back the crooked red cloth amulet and feed it the mooncakes we had saved,one piece after another. Far away,grandma with floating silver hair,was diligently doing her chores,milking the cows,tying the calves,so much like a sacred mission. We certainly would not let it spend the night outside at night, so we'd tie it to the nearby fireplace in the yurt with soft woolen threads. The colts joined our family and the four of us lived happily, enjoying the fun it had brought us.
Grandma was singing emotionally, I did not realize she was something of a singer.After a long mellowed sound tail , her voice was hoarse and high-pitched, it seemed that she could sing with a technique that was so hard , perhaps I've got too much of those school rhythm and cheerful children's songs that this simple old folk song made me feel so curious.
Suomiya and I looked at each other, dare not to afford to breath,stunned by the intoxicating melody. Grandma sang a story that a brother was riding an absolutely beautiful horse treking for miles,through a vast prairie, to find his sister .
She was always chanting endlessly on a twisting turn, until we were tortured enough,simply telling the results of this journey in one or two words.Time and time again, the rider always couldn't find the long gonesister, even we were so anxious for him.
how re.fresh.ing and touching the song was,like a clear s.now brook,a burst of awakening wind,which was sweeping over my s k i n and st.roking my h.eart. ......I lost myself,standing on the grasslands,listening while clenching my hands. The marvelous tunes evoked in my mind again and again,gradually turning into a horse with black-satin furred body, proudly neighing,Its one move of foot and one flip of its bristle had all made such a deep and so lifelike impression.

Answer 3

给你个建议，多给点悬赏，不然就悬了，实在太长了。