狐狸在夜里盲目地轻轻地从我的肝脏和胃之间穿过。来到心里，犹豫了一下。考虑一下，然后绕开它。试图逃离这个充满暴力的世界。更深入，在我身上寻找匹兹堡的痕迹。锈迹斑斑的工厂沿着三条河伸展开来。他们的权威。我们每天晚上玩耍的沙砾小巷被天空中不断涌动的地狱染成了粉红色，仿佛基督和天父还在塑造着地球。机车在寒冷的雨中行驶，它们的力量威严而凶猛。巨大的水流早晚贯穿这座由九十座桥梁组成的城市。 Sumptuous-shouldered, sleek-thighed, obstinate and majestic, unquenchable. All grip and flood, mighty sucking and deep-rooted grace. A city of brick and tired wood. Ox and sovereign spirit. Primitive Pittsburgh. Winter month after month telling of death. The beauty forcing us as much as harshness. Our spirits forged in that wilderness, our minds forged by the heart. Making together a consequence of America. The fox watched me build my Pittsburgh again and again. In Paris afternoons on Buttes-Chaumont. On Greek islands with their fields of stone. In beds with women, sometimes, amid their gentleness. Now the fox will live in our ruined house. My tomatoes grow ripe among weeds and the sound of water. In this happy place my serious heart has made. Submitted by Joe Shields