——摘自《森林传》在寂静中，我又一次独自爬上楼梯，远处的海浪，在淡蓝色的星光下，撞击着白色的沙滩。这是月光。花园静悄悄的。我独自站在房间里。越过我的墙，从遥远的月亮，一场火雨被扔…有房子挂在星星的上方，星星挂在大海的下方;有风从时间的蓝色穹苍吹来，为我摇起我的窗帘…我再次在黑暗中等待，在空间和空间之间摇摆:在我的镜子前，我举起双手，面对我记忆中的面孔。是我站在这里，要求知道我的名字吗?…… It is I, yet I know not whither I go, Nor why, nor whence I came. It is I, who awoke at dawn And arose and descended the stair, Conceiving a god in the eye of the sun,? In a woman's hands and hair. It is I whose flesh is gray with the stones I builded into a wall: With a mournful melody in my brain Of a tune I cannot recall . . . There are roses to kiss: and mouths to kiss; And the sharp-pained shadow of death. I remember a rain-drop on my cheek,? A wind like a fragrant breath . . . And the star I laugh on tilts through heaven; And the heavens are dark and steep . . . I will forget these things once more In the silence of sleep.