在古老的苹果园里,迎着风
数自己的钱,又一把撒开,
被风吹瘦的苹果园,枝干分散,在倾听,或没有在树丛里,枝干让风惊叫:
“谁,你是谁?”
夏天的下午,我把头埋在臂弯,在那里学习睡觉,
离开时,我明白了他们为什么沉睡,
我明白了他们怎样捕捉狡猾的风。
很早以前我就学会听风,学会忘怀,
学会欣赏那低沉的哀号
拍打了,消失了,在蓝天,在星空,
“谁,你是谁?”
谁能忘记
听风卷来,
数自己的钱,
又一把撒开?
Wind Song
Long ago I learned how to sleep,
In an old apple orchard where the wind swept by counting its money and throwing it away,
In a wind-gaunt orchard where the limbs forked out and listened or never listened at all,
In a passel of trees where the branches trapped the wind into whistling,"Who,who are you?"
I slept with my head in an elbow on a summer afternoon and there I took a sleep lesson.
There I went away saying:I know why they sleep,I know how they trap the tricky winds.
Long ago I learned how to listen to the singing wind and how to forget
And how to hear the deep whine,
Slapping and lapsing under the day blue and the night stars:
"Who,who are you?"
Who can ever forget
Listening to the wind go by
Counting its money
And throwing it away?
By Carl Sandburg
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