It seemed a glow to him , a warm and trailing vapor , ever beyond his reaching , though sometimes he was rewarded by catching at shreds of it and weaving them into phrases that echoed in his brain with haunting notes or drifted across his vision in misty wafture of unseen beauty . it was baffling 那东西于他宛若一道微明的亮光，一片温馨的流云，永远可望而不可即，他偶然抓住了一丝半缕编织成几个诗句，那维绕的音韵便在他脑子里回荡往复，而那以前从未见过的芙便如膝俄的雾雷在他的视野中涌现。
