有一个冬天，在北方腹地的一个湖上，远离堡垒，远离猎人，一个奇佩瓦女人带着她生病的孩子，在一场暴风雨的最后几个小时里蜷缩着。又冻又饿，她用一根扭曲的雪松树皮，和一根磨得锃亮有倒刺的兔骨钩，在冰面上钓鱼;用光秃秃的鱼钩钓了整整一天，钓了半天，什么也没钓到;当年轻的酋长拉着她的乳房，或者睡在温暖的提卡纳根的花边上。无数的冰片被风吹得嘶嘶作响，整个湖面流淌着;在她身后，一个孤岛的圆形像火一样咆哮着，伴随着风暴的声音，在雪松的深处。勇敢，毫不动摇，她取下自己的肉，在鱼钩上系上饵，勾上一条灰鳟鱼，勾上他的同伴，把他们堆在她身边，死在雪地里。勇敢，坚定，她面对着遥远的距离，狼的出没和孤独，她坚信她的目标和她心爱的人的生命:跋涉了两天，在第三天的早晨，看到河边堡垒的强大，看到烟雾手在云杉中柔软，听到贪婪的哈士奇为白鱼而战的尖锐叫声:然后她休息了。年复一年，当她老了，憔悴了，当她的儿子成了老人，而他的孩子们却充满了活力，他们在冬天即将来临的时候来到了北方，来到了一个孤独的湖中的小岛。一天晚上，他们在那里扎营，第二天就收拾好水壶和桦树皮，穿上兔皮制的长袍，带上貂皮夹子，划起独木舟，悄悄地穿过小岛，把她永远留在那里，没有一句告别的话，因为她老了，没用了，像一只折断弯曲的桨，或是一根折断的竿子。 Then, without a sigh, Valiant, unshaken, She smoothed her dark locks under her kerchief, Composed her shawl in state, Then folded her hands ridged with sinews and corded with veins, Folded them across her breasts spent with the nourishment of children, Gazed at the sky past the tops of the cedars, Saw two spangled nights arise out of the twilight, Saw two days go by filled with the tranquil sunshine, Saw, without pain, or dread, or even a moment of longing: Then on the third great night there came thronging and thronging Millions of snowflakes out of a windless cloud; They covered her close with a beautiful crystal shroud, Covered her deep and silent. But in the frost of the dawn, Up from the life below, Rose a column of breath Through a tiny cleft in the snow, Fragile, delicately drawn, Wavering with its own weakness, In the wilderness a sign of the spirit, Persisting still in the sight of the sun Till day was done. Then all light was gathered up by the hand of God and hid in His breast, Then there was born a silence deeper than silence, Then she had rest.