一段有趣的翻译 The land was so infinitely big that no matter what I did, nobody would care. The plains rolled on forever. The grassland stretched beyond what the human eye could see. I felt that there, nothing really mattered, because no matter what happened the wind would just blow it far away, across the colossal green blanket to be buried.
The sky, like the land, does not stop. Mongolia’s landscape is basically a strip of green beneath a stripe of blue, with the odd fluffs of white and slopes of emerald in between. Its simplicity is moving and calming. The sky is so blue that is seems artificial. Blue. Pure. Crystal clear.