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一这是一个浓雾迷漫的夜晚。一条条大大小小的水流,在山谷间发出哗哗的响声,湍急地流向北湖。这条山峡,三天两头下雾;下起雾来,白蒙蒙的,咫尺难辨。本来池老汉的眼睛一到夜里就不中用了,今天晚上刚一上路,就象被一团团浓烟包围着,眼前一片昏暗,走一步都非常艰难,但他仍然拼命地加快着脚步,穿着布袜草鞋的双脚,不时地碰在石头上,陷进泥坑里。他不管这些,一个劲地心急慌忙地向前赶路,好象被人追赶着似的。他熟悉这条路。多少年来,他一直赶着马车来往在这条路上,
This is a foggy evening. Large and small, a stream of water, issued in the valley rushing sound, turbulent flow to the North Lake. This mountain gorge, three days under the fog; fog down, white and dark, close at hand difficult to distinguish. The eyes of the old pool were not used at night, and just got on the road tonight, as if surrounded by a mass of smoke. Now it was very dark and the walk was very difficult. However, he still tried hard to speed up and wear Cloth socks grass shoes feet, from time to time to touch the stones, stuck in the pit. Regardless of these, he hurried forward hurriedly, as though chased by him. He is familiar with this road. For years, he has been hurrying carriage carriage on this road,