在遥远的东方，雨云扫来扫去，飘散着;在遥远的西方，贝壳的色彩相映成趣，堆积着灰色的、温柔的、蓝色的和玫瑰色的雪;东方——像一个恶魔，狂风暴雨带着闪电和冰雹袭击着世界;西边——就像一个正在做梦的六翼天使，金星领着年轻的月亮下山。我们的长舟，呼啸着，穿过暗与明之间的湖沟，Potàn聪明狡黠的银色闪电，用它们细长的桨，划破清澈的长空;很快我将在桦树间搭起帐篷，智者Potàn将收集香脂冷杉的树枝，银闪电将搜寻树皮和干柴;烟很快就会在潮湿的空气中消散。我很快就要入眠了——如果我没有记起，有一个人住在遥远的地方，暴风曾到过那里;愿它分离，星光在许多安静的余烬中燃烧，照耀着她那丰饶的高塔城市;亲爱的上帝，让我在这宁静的地方长眠吧，让我多年一次无梦的安眠吧，让我知道什么是心灵的安宁，让我沉浸在光明、生命、希望、渴望和泪水中。在这孤寂的地方，她的记忆少了些，我却看见她在白桦林里徘徊，所有的黑雪松都像她的头发一样沉睡，金色的木池像她的眼睛一样清澈; Memories and ghost-forms of the days departed People all the forest lone in the dead of night; While Potàn and Silver Lightning sleep, the happy-hearted, Troop they from their fastnesses upon my sight. Once when the tide came straining from the Lido, In a sea of flame our gondola flickered like a sword, Venice lay abroad builded like beauty's credo, Smouldering like a gorget on the breast of the Lord: Did she mourn for fame foredoomed or passion shattered That with a sudden impulse she gathered at my side? But when I spoke the ancient fates were flattered, Chill there crept between us the imperceptible tide. Once I well remember in her twilight garden, She pulled a half-blown rose, I thought it meant for me, But poising in the act, and with half a sigh for pardon, She hid it in her bosom where none may dare to see: Had she a subtle meaning?--would to God I knew it, Where'er I am I always feel the rose leaves nestling there, If I might know her mind and the thought which then flashed through it, My soul might look to heaven not commissioned to despair. Though she denied at parting the gift that I besought her, Just a bit of ribbon or a strand of her hair; Though she would not keep the token that I brought her, Proud she stood and calm and marvellously fair; Yet I saw her spirit--truth cannot dissemble-- Saw her pure as gold, staunch and keen and brave, For she knows my worth and her heart was all atremble, Lest her will should weaken and make her heart a slave. If she could be here where all the world is eager For dear love with the primal Eden sway, Where the blood is fire and no pulse is thin or meagre, All the heart of all the world beats one way! There is the land of fraud and fame and fashion, Joy is but a gaud and withers in an hour, Here is the land of quintessential passion, Where in a wild throb Spring wells up with power. She would hear the partridge drumming in the distance, Rolling out his mimic thunder in the sultry noons; Hear beyond the silver reach in ringing wild persistence Reel remote the ululating laughter of the loons; See the shy moose fawn nestling by its mother, In a cool marsh pool where the sedges meet; Rest by a moss-mound where the twin-flowers smother With a drowse of orient perfume drenched in light and heat: She would see the dawn rise behind the smoky mountain, In a jet of colour curving up to break, While like spray from the iridescent fountain, Opal fires weave over all the oval of the lake: She would see like fireflies the stars alight and spangle All the heaven meadows thick with growing dusk, Feel the gipsy airs that gather up and tangle The woodsy odours in a maze of myrrh and musk: There in the forest all the birds are nesting, Tells the hermit thrush the song he cannot tell, While the white-throat sparrow never resting, Even in the deepest night rings his crystal bell: O, she would love me then with a wild elation, Then she must love me and leave her lonely state, Give me love yet keep her soul's imperial reservation, Large as her deep nature and fathomless as fate: Then, if she would lie beside me in the even, On my deep couch heaped of balsam fir, Fragrant with sleep as nothing under heaven, Let the past and future mingle in one blur; While all the stars were watchful and the