教堂的一扇窗下是长满绿草的坟堆,坟堆上坐着个小女孩。她仰着头,望着天空,唱着歌。她的小手指着一朵飘浮在她头顶的金色羽毛般的小彩云。突然间,阳光显得格外灿烂,照在她富有光泽的头发上,给它涂上一层金属似的色彩,很难说出它究竟是什么颜色。是深褐色,还是黑色?她是那么全神贯注地望着彩云,她那奇妙的歌声,或可说是喃喃自语,似乎是对着 Under the window of the church was a mound of grasses covered with green grass and a little girl sitting on the grave. She looked up, looking at the sky, singing songs. Her little finger pointed at a golden feathery little cloud that floats above her head. Suddenly, the sunshine was exceptionally brilliant, shining on her shiny hair, giving it a metallic color and hard to say what color it was. Is dark brown or black? She is so absorbed in looking at Choi Wan, her wonderful song, or can be said to mutter, seems to be confronted