I close my eyes and can still hear her―the little girl with a ___26___ so strong and powerful we could hear her halfway down the block. She was a(n)  ___27___ peasant who asked for money and ___28___ gave the only thing she had――her voice. I paused outside a small shop and listened. She brought to my mind the ___29___ of Little Orphan Annie. I could not understand the words she  ___30___, but her voice begged for ___31___. It stood out from the noises of Arbat Street, pure and impressive, like the chime of a bell. She sang ___32___ an old-style lamp post in the shadow of a building, her arms extended and ___33___ thrown back. She was small and of unremarkable looks. Her brown hair___34___ the bun(发髻) it had been pulled into, and she occasionally reached up to ___35___ a stray piece from her face. Her clothing I can’t recall. Her voice, on the other hand, is ___36___ 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 ___37___ Soviet Union add to their families’ income by working on the streets. The children are unable to ___38___ school, and their parents work fulltime. These children know that the consequence of an ___39___ day is no food for the table. Similar situations occurred during the Depression(萧条) in the United States, but those American children were ___40___ shoeshine boys of the ___41___. This girl was real to me.

When we walked past her I gave her money. It was not out of pity ___42___ rather admiration. Her smile of ___43___ 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 ___44___ that smile, and I knew I could never forget her courage and ___45___ strength.