这不是我的家。我怎么会离水这么远?它一定在那边的某个地方。我是酒的颜色，丁丁的颜色。我有力的右爪里面是藏红花黄色的。看，我现在明白了;我像挥舞旗帜一样挥舞它。我衣冠楚楚，举止优雅;我移动非常精确，聪明地控制着我所有的小黄色爪子。我相信拐弯抹角的、间接的方法，我把自己的感情藏在心里。 But on this strange, smooth surface I am making too much noise. I wasn't meant for this. If I maneuver a bit and keep a sharp lookout, I shall find my pool again. Watch out for my right claw, all passersby! This place is too hard. The rain has stopped, and it is damp, but still not wet enough to please me. My eyes are good, though small; my shell is tough and tight. In my own pool are many small gray fish. I see right through them. Only their large eyes are opaque, and twitch at me. They are hard to catch but I, I catch them quickly in my arms and eat them up. What is that big soft monster, like a yellow cloud, stifling and warm? What is it doing? It pats my back. Out, claw. There, I have frightened it away. It's sitting down, pretending nothing's happened. I'll skirt it. It's still pretending not to see me. Out of my way, O monster. I own a pool, all the little fish that swim in it, and all the skittering waterbugs that smell like rotten apples. Cheer up, O grievous snail. I tap your shell, encouragingly, not that you will ever know about it. And I want nothing to do with you, either, sulking toad. Imagine, at least four times my size and yet so vulnerable... I could open your belly with my claw. You glare and bulge, a watchdog near my pool; you make a loud and hollow noise. I do not care for such stupidity. I admire compression, lightness, and agility, all rare in this loose world.