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“I am my mother's savage daughter,
the one who runs barefoot,
cursing sharp stones,
一簇烈焰，淡了谈话的人们，一面鼓，两个忘了旁人自顾吟唱的姑娘。
歌声一半桀骜，一半温柔。
女性之美，从不困于某一词。
“I am my mother's savage daughter,
I will not cut my hair,
I will not lower my voice,”
女性不应该被丢掉野性，她们也可以肆意张狂，她们也可以无爱自由。
“my mother's daughter is a savage,
she looks for her omens in the colors of stones,
in the faces of cats in the falling of feathers,”
火在燃烧，噼里啪啦地响，又一道鼓声加了进来。
“in the dancing of fire,
in the curve of old bones,”
洛雨醉了，她想跳舞。
“I am my mother's savage daughter,
the one who runs barefoot,
cursing sharp stones,
I am my mother's savage daughter,
I will not cut my hair,
I will not lower my voice,”
那就跳吧，放下鼓，她拉上了木若。
“my mother's child dances in the darkness ,
she sings heathen songs
by the light of the moon ,”
月光下，有卓玛起舞，谁的裙边飘荡。
“and watches the stars and renames the pls ,
and dreams she can reach them
with a song and a broom,”
哼唱直白而抒情，曲调悠扬，有人在跟着打节拍。
“we are all brought forth out of darkness
into this world through blood and through pain,”
会唱的跟着唱了起来，男声低沉。
不会的模仿着调调轻哼，还有的也起身跳起了舞，鼓声不停。
藏家儿女，热情奔放。
“and deep in our bones the old songs are waking
so sing them with voices of thunder and rain，”
木若看到了坐在那里喝酒的邬川，火光照亮了他棱角分明的侧脸，他在和旁边的帕拉大叔说着什么，又抬眼看过来。
目光相撞，他在微笑，眉眼温柔。
“we are our mother's savage daughters,
the one who run barefoot,
cursing sharp stones,
we are our mother's savage daughters,
we will not cut our hair,
we will not lower our voice…”
余音未尽，欢笑声穿透冬季的小院，回响在空旷的高原之上。
洛雨她们的歌打开了气氛，后面高歌载舞，酒香鼓声，酥油茶配糍粑烤牦牛肉就大蒜，欢笑声一直持续到后半夜。
这是木若最开心的一次旅程，自由的身躯在祖国西部大地上奔跑，灵魂在沿途的风光人情中寻找自我。
她暂时脱离了自己的生活，以一个路人的身份，看那些她不曾拥有过的人生，感受他们的喜怒哀乐，问自己路在何方。
这场露天盛宴，人们放肆高歌开怀大笑。
在这个夜晚，这个所有人的命运都还没有起航的夜晚。
