《泥土和洞穴里的小生命》

The little lives of earth and form,
Of finding food, and keeping warm,
Are not like ours, and yet
A kinship lingers nonetheless:
We hanker for the homeliness
Of den, and hole, and set.

And this identity we feel
—Perhaps not right, perhaps not real—
Will link us constantly;
I see the rock, the clay, the chalk,
The flattened grass, the swaying stalk,
And it is you I see.

泥土和洞穴里的小生命，
在寻找食物，保持体温，
它们与我们不同，然而
却有割不断的亲切感:
我们渴望也有那样的朴素
有个小窝，小洞，还有小巢。

而我们感受到的同一性
——也许不确定，也许不真实——
将把我们一直连在一起；
当我看到石头、黏土、白垩，
被压倒的小草，摇摆的草茎，
我看见的，是你。