黄昏的曙光藏在美洲蓟的后面——天空是橘黄色的——村里的妇女在磨玉米，鹦鹉在河边寻找，每只都在呼唤同伴，那一天，那令人凝视的复活节诞生了。哦，公路上的白色灰尘!哦，小路上的臭气!啊，湿漉漉的雾在空中盘旋，他们在家乡的白莓和红莓下欢闹——印度的流亡者在他们的欢乐中有什么部分?满天的红柳开始了——天空是蓝色的，凝视着——牛群在轭下爬过田野，它们带着一个人走过田野的小路，他已经过了所有的希望和牵挂，来到袅袅的烟圈下的坟墓。去拜访罗摩吧，慢慢地走，就像你卑微地对待一个兄弟一样——去拜访罗摩吧——也许他会听到你的声音!我们用我们的赞美诗和诗篇向其他祭坛呼吁，今天我们叫“善良的基督徒快乐!”红柳背后的正午——太阳在我们头顶上很热——就像在家里，圣诞节正在变冷。他们会在饭桌上为我们的健康干杯——那些告诉我们他们是多么爱我们的人，却会把我们忘记，直到来年过去!呵，永不停歇的辛劳! Oh the Heimweh, ceaseless, aching! Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain! Youth was cheap -- wherefore we sold it. Gold was good -- we hoped to hold it, And to-day we know the fulness of our gain. Grey dusk behind the tamarisks -- the parrots fly together -- As the sun is sinking slowly over Home; And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a lifelong tether. That drags us back how'er so far we roam. Hard her service, poor her payment -- she is ancient, tattered raiment -- India, she the grim Stepmother of our kind. If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's shrine we enter, The door is hut -- we may not look behind. Black night behind the tamarisks -- the owls begin their chorus -- As the conches from the temple scream and bray. With the fruitless years behind us, and the hopeless years before us, Let us honor, O my brother, Christmas Day! Call a truce, then, to our labors -- let us feast with friends and neighbors, And be merry as the custom of our caste; For if "faint and forced the laughter," and if sadness follow after, We are richer by one mocking Christmas past.