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.