我爱她如我的生命，看着她成长为甜美的少女;赢得了叫她妻子的特权，发现世界因为她而美好。我是那个听到灵魂声音的人，那是那些白脸移民喜欢讲的;他们从他的离奇故事中选择了这个美丽的山谷命名为"曲阿普尔"她曾在我热切的耳边深情地说:“当印第安的夏天用黝黑的嘴唇微笑，到湖边来的时候，我将第一个听到你桨下的欢迎音乐。”我要第一个把我的手放在你的手里，在岸边轻声问候;当你想要回到你自己的土地上时，我会和你一起去，永远做你的妻子。”在我出发之前，一片树叶还没有飘落，平原上还没有霜冻，我迫不及待地想占有她——这位北方所有女人中的女王。我没有在黄昏或黎明休息，而是在黑夜和白昼中航行，直到我到达湖泊，我匆忙地把我的独木舟放在他们的胸前。我对睡眠或饥饿毫不在意，只是匆匆地越过他们连绵的水道; But my hot heart outstripped my paddle's speed And waited not for distance or for days, But flew before me swifter than the blade Of magic paddle ever cleaved the Lake, Eager to lay its love before the maid, And watch the lovelight in her eyes awake. So the long days went slowly drifting past; It seemed that half my life must intervene Before the morrow, when I said at last-- "One more day's journey and I win my queen!" I rested then, and, drifting, dreamed the more Of all the happiness I was to claim,-- When suddenly from out the shadowed shore, I heard a voice speak tenderly my name. "Who calls?" I answered; no reply; and long I stilled my paddle blade and listened. Then Above the night wind's melancholy song I heard distinctly that strange voice again-- A woman's voice, that through the twilight came Like to a soul unborn--a song unsung. I leaned and listened--yes, she spoke my name, And then I answered in the quaint French tongue, "Qu'Appelle? Qu'Appelle?" No answer, and the night Seemed stiller for the sound, till round me fell The far-off echoes from the far-off height-- "Qu'Appelle?" my voice came back, "Qu'Appelle? Qu'Appelle?" This--and no more; I called aloud until I shuddered as the gloom of night increased, And, like a pallid spectre wan and chill, The moon arose in silence in the east. I dare not linger on the moment when My boat I beached beside her tepee door; I heard the wail of women and of men,-- I saw the death-fires lighted on the shore. No language tells the torture or the pain, The bitterness that flooded all my life,-- When I was led to look on her again, That queen of women pledged to be my wife. To look upon the beauty of her face, The still closed eyes, the lips that knew no breath; To look, to learn,--to realize my place Had been usurped by my one rival--Death. A storm of wrecking sorrow beat and broke About my heart, and life shut out its light Till through my anguish some one gently spoke, And said, "Twice did she call for thee last night." I started up--and bending o'er my dead, Asked when did her sweet lips in silence close. "She called thy name--then passed away," they said, "Just on the hour whereat the moon arose." Among the lonely Lakes I go no more, For she who made their beauty is not there; The paleface rears his tepee on the shore And says the vale is fairest of the fair. Full many years have vanished since, but still The voyageurs beside the campfire tell How, when the moonrise tips the distant hill, They hear strange voices through the silence swell. The paleface loves the haunted lakes they say, And journeys far to watch their beauty spread Before his vision; but to me the day, The night, the hour, the seasons are all dead. I listen heartsick, while the hunters tell Why white men named the valley The Qu'Appelle.