雷卡巴伦躺在小床上半睁眼睛,看到倾斜的芦苇编的天花板。另一间屋子里传来吉他的弹拨声,仿佛是拙劣透顶的迷宫,音符无休无止地纠缠在一起然后又解开……他点点滴滴地回想起现实,回想起再也不能改变的日常事物。他并不惋惜地瞅着自己大而无用的躯体和裹在腿上的粗羊毛斗篷。窗户栏杆外面延伸着下午的平原。他 Reka Baren lay in the cot half open eyes, see the sloping reed woven ceiling. The pop-up of the guitar came in the other room as if it were a maze of bastards, endlessly intertwined notes and then untangled ... He remembered the reality bit by bit and remembered nothing more to change Everyday things. He did not regret looking at his useless body and the thick woolen cloak wrapped in his leg. Outside the window railing extends the afternoon plains. he