I close my eyes and can still hear her—the little girl with a (36) so strong and powerful we could hear her halfway down the block. She was a(n) (37) peasant who asked for money and (38) gave the only thing she had—her voice. I paused outside a small shop and listened. She brought to my mind the (39) of Little Orphan Annie. I could not understand the words she (40) , but her voice begged for (41) . It stood out from the noises of Arbat Street, pure and impressive, like the chime of a bell. She sang (42) an old-style lamp post in the shadow of a building, her arms extended and (43) thrown back. She was small and of unremarkable looks. Her brown hair (44) the bun (发髻) it had been pulled into, and she occasionally reached up to (45) a stray piece from her face. Her clothing I can’t recall. Her voice, on the other hand, is (46) imprinted in my mind.
I asked one of the translators about the girl. Elaina told me that she and hundreds of others like her throughout the (47) Soviet Union add to their families’ income by working on the streets. The children are unable to (48) school, and their parents work fulltime. These children know that the consequence of an (49) day is no food for the table. Similar situations occurred during the Depression (萧条) in the United States, but those American children were (50) shoeshine boys of the (51) . This girl was real to me.
When we walked past her I gave her money. It was not out of pity (52) rather admiration. Her smile of (53) did not interrupt her singing. The girl watched us as we walked down the street. I know this because when I looked back she smiled again. We (54) that smile, and I knew I could never forget her courage and (55) strength.