猪一放到草地,张嘴就吃,丑陋的嘴脸再也不离开地面。他并不选择鲜嫩的草。他碰上什么咬什么。他盲目地向前伸着那永不疲倦的鼻子,既像是一把犁刀,又像一只瞎眼鼹鼠。他只关心使那个已经像只腌桶的肚子滚圆。他永远也不注意天气。刚才,他的鬃毛差点儿在中午的太阳光下烧起来,但那有什么关系?而现在,低沉的云团充满雹子,正伸展着,向着草地倾泻,但这又有什么要紧? Pig put into the grass, mouth to eat, ugly face never leave the ground. He does not choose fresh grass. What did he bite? He blindly stretched forward the tireless nose, like a coulter and a blind mole. He only cares about rounding up the belly that is already like a pickle. He never pays attention to the weather. Just now, his mane almost burned in the noon sun, but what about that? And now, the low clouds are filled with hailstones and are stretching and pouring toward the grass, but what’s the point?