Through the cold winter wasteland a man trudged, leaning into the harsh wind which spitefully tried to force him back. He was covered from head to toe in layers of thick clothing, layers of protection against the harsh environment. On he fought, searching, searching. He was working so hard. This must be the way.

在寒冷的冬季，以为男子在荒地中的前行举步维艰，狂风肆虐几乎要将他吹倒。他从头到脚包裹着厚厚的衣物，用来抵御这恶劣的环境。他不遗余力的寻找着，寻找着，一定有办法。

In the distance he saw what looked like steam rising out of the ground. It rose a few feet and then was quickly whipped away by the biting wind. He altered his course and turned towards the steam, gaining some blessed relief as he turned his chapped face out of the gale.

远远地他看见有蒸汽从地下往上冒，只有短短几英尺。接着狂风拖曳着他往回，他改变了方向超蒸汽那里出发，感谢上天他开裂的脸蛋不再曝露在狂风之中。

As he got closer, he thought he could make out voices. Their tone was unfamiliar to him - musical, relaxed and warm - their melody enticed him closer. Finally he got close enough to peer through the mist.

他渐渐走近，发现自己可以说话了。对方的声音听起来很陌生，但是如同音乐一般让人感觉到放松，温暖。他们的旋律吸引着他不断靠近。最后，在迷雾中他靠近了他们。

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