Again ice was floating down the rivers, and a st of violets rose from uhe rotten leaves. Goldmund walked through the colorful seasons: his insatiable eyes drank in the forests, the mountains, the clouds; he wandered from farm to farm, from village to village, from woman to woman. Many a cool evening hed sit anguished, with ag heart, under a lighted window; from its rosy shimmer radiated all that was happiness and home and pea earth, all that was lovely and unreachable for him. Everythied itself over and over, all the things he thought he had e to know so well; everythiurned, a different each time: the long walks across field ah, or along stony roads, sleeping in the summer forest, strolls through villages, trailing after bands of young girls ing home, hand in hand, from turning over the hay athering hops; the first shudder of autumn, the first angry frosts—everything came back: owice, endlessly the colorful ribbon rolled past his eyes.
Much rain, muow ……（内容加载失败！）
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