会唱的跟着唱了起来，男声低沉。

那就吧，放下鼓，她拉上了木若。

“and watches the stars and rehe pls ,

by the light of the moon ,”

with a song and a broom,”

we are our mother&039;s savage daughters,

the one who run barefoot,

“we are all brought forth out of darkness

在这个夜晚，这个所有人的命运都还没有起航的夜晚。

I am my mother&039;s savage daughter,

I will not lower my voice,”

we will not lower our voice…”

歌声一半桀骜，一半温柔。

藏家儿女，情奔放。

I will not cut my hair,

cursing sharp stones,

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

女之，从不困于某一词。

I will not cut my hair,

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。

余音未尽，笑声穿透冬季的小院，回响在空旷的原之上。

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

“and deep in our bohe old songs are waking

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。

不会的模仿着调调轻哼，还有的也起起了舞，鼓声不停。

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。

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

she sings heathen songs

哼唱直白而抒情，曲调悠扬，有人在跟着打节拍。

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

in the curve of old bones,”

洛雨醉了，她想舞。

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

I will not lower my voice,”

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。

cursing sharp stones,

月光下，有卓玛起舞，谁的裙边飘。

she looks for her omens in the colors of stones,

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

这场天盛宴，人们放肆歌开怀大笑。

into this world through blood and through pain,”

we will not cut our hair,

so sing them with voices of thunder and rain，”

the one who runs barefoot,

目光相撞，他在微笑，眉温柔。

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。

火在燃烧，噼里啪啦地响，又一鼓声加了来。

“in the dang of fire,

and dreams she reach them

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。