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小提琴声如蓝天白云从北大荒的一间陋室飘出。让人意想不到的是那翩绵缥缈,余音绕梁的乐曲是从粗糙结实的手指缝流出的。拉琴的人长得魁伟,有着农民的憨厚与随和,还有几分学者的木讷。他拉琴的姿势有点别扭,哦,头太偏了,耳朵已贴到了琴上。与众不同的是他拉几下琴,就用玻璃碴儿在琴体上刮几下,用锥子扎几下,然后再拉再刮再扎。奇妙的是琴的音色就在这刮刮扎扎之下渐臻理想了。
Violin sound such as blue sky and white clouds from the northern great wilderness floated out. It is unexpected that the pondering, the melodious music is from the sturdy fingers stitched out. The violins grew quaintly, with the peasant’s simple, honest, easy-going, and somewhat subdued scholars. His violin posture a little awkward, oh, head too biased, ears have been attached to the piano. The difference is that he pulled a few times the piano, with glass bald on the piano body a few scraping, barbed with a few awn, and then pull and then scraping again. The wonderful thing is that the sound of the piano is getting better and better under this scratch.