小女孩跳得越远，跑得越远，她越渴望走得更远;洁白洁白的金秋之花在她的膝上飞舞，在她眼前闪烁，直到她几乎看不见。于是她走进了树林。树林里静悄悄的，庄严肃穆;一个声音像波浪在树顶叹息，然后不再叹息。但她很勇敢，天空呈现出鸟蛋一般的蓝色，她看见一条小路穿过山峦，通向——谁知道呢?她也跑了。但后来路断了，路断了，再也无法修补。一个小老头坐在边上，抱着树篱。他有一堆火，锅里有两个鸡蛋，还有一纸胡椒和盐; So she came to a halt To watch and admire: Cunning and nimble was he! "May I help, if I can, little old man?" "Bravo!" he said, "You may dine with me. I've two old eggs From two white hens and a loaf from a kind ladie: Some fresh nutmegs, Some cutlet ends In pink and white paper frills: And--I've--got A little hot-pot From the town between the hills." He nodded his head And made her a sign To sit under the spray Of a trailing vine. But when the little girl joined her hands And said the grace she had learned to say, The little old man gave two dreadful squeals And she just saw the flash of his smoking heels As he tumbled, tumbled, With his two old eggs From two white hens, His loaf from a kind ladie, The fresh nutmegs, The cutlet-ends In the pink and white paper frills. And away rumbled The little hot-pot, So much too hot, From the ton between the hills.