回家是回到
凉爽草地的白屋子,
透过影子的薄膜,闪亮的
河水做了小屋的镜子。
烟从屋顶上升起,
到达大树的高枝,
最初的星星在那里重温了
时间、死亡和人的誓言的道理。
Coming home was to that:
The white house in the cool grass
Membraned with shadow, the bright stretch
Of stream that was its looking - glass;
And smoke growing above the roof
To a tall tree among whose boughs
The first stars renewed their theme
Of time and death and a man’s vows.