这些山多沙。这里的树都矮小了。乌鸦在干枯明亮的天空忧郁地啼叫，在尘土飞扬的松树上抱怨。黄灿灿的晨光，在长长的棕色山坡上挂着霜样的露珠，露珠重如雨;兔子的足迹在上面清晰地显现出来，就像在雪地里一样。但它吗?她很快就消失在阳光下了?它有什么用?山坡上或棕树间的房屋都是灰色的，枯萎了。住在这里的人又小又干瘪，像蜘蛛一样，眼睛很大。 Bring water with you if you come to live here ? Cold tinkling cisterns, or else wells so deep That one looks down to Ganges or Himalayas. Yes, and bring mountains with you, white, moon-bearing, Mountains of ice. You will have need of these Profundities and peaks of wet and cold. Bring also, in a cage of wire or osier, Birds of a golden colour, who will sing Of leaves that do not wither, watery fruits That heavily hang on long melodious boughs In the blue-silver forests of deep valleys. I have now been here ? how many years? Years unnumbered. My hands grow clawlike. My eyes are large and starved. I brought no bird with me, I have no cistern Where I might find the moon, or river, or snow. Some day, for lack of these, I?ll spin a web Between two dusty pine-tree tops, and hang there Face downward, like a spider, blown as lightly As ghost of leaf. Crows will caw about me. Morning and evening I shall drink the dew.