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有一双手,梦幻中,在一位女孩的泪光中晃动;有一双手,在夜深人静时,替我揩去伤心的泪水;有一双手,是一根亲情风筝线,时刻系着我的灵魂!那是奶奶的手——饱经风霜、枯槁的手。我跟别的女孩不一样,从小就不多话,整天一个人在家里呆着。是一双皮肤满是皱纹的手拉过我的小手,教授我苗族蜡染画——纺线,织布,剪片,蒸布,晒干,装蜡,放在火的上面烤,上蜡……让我从少年时就学会了苗族的女儿
There is a pair of hands, dreams, in the tears of a girl shaking; a pair of hands, in the dead of night, for my sad tears; a pair of hands, is a kin line of affection, always tied to my soul! Grandma’s hands - weather-beaten, withered hands. I am not the same with other girls, I grew up with a few words, stay alone at home all day long. Is a pair of skin wrinkled hand pulled my little hand, teach me Miao batik painting - spinning, weaving, cutting, steamed cloth, dried, waxed, placed on top of the fire baked, waxed ... Let me learn from the young Miao daughter