一年生下了她的果实，麦垛在太阳的照耀下灰蒙蒙地站在那里，低声唱着:“过来吧，过来吧，因为蜜蜂已经离开了三叶草，你们英国的夏天已经结束了。”你听过离岸的风吹过，听过深海的雨打过;你听过这首歌——听了多久了!多久?再次在小路上拉出!闪的帐篷已经用完了，亲爱的姑娘，我们已经经历了四季，是时候走旧的路了，我们自己的路，外面的路，拉啊，拉啊，走那条长长的路——那条永远是新的路。你可以向北奔向白霜环绕的太阳，也可以向南奔向盲角的仇恨;或者往东一直到密西西比湾，或者往西到金门;在那里，最盲目的断崖依然屹立，亲爱的姑娘，最荒诞的传说也是真实的，人们在旧的道路上壮大，在我们自己的道路上壮大，在别人的道路上壮大，生活在漫长的道路上扩张——这条道路永远是新的。天又冷又病，天又灰又老，两次呼吸的空气吹着湿气; And I'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll Of a black Bilbao tramp; With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass, And a drunken Dago crew, And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail From Cadiz Bar on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new. There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake, Or the way of a man with a maid; But the fairest way to me is a ship's upon the sea In the heel of the North-East Trade. Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass, And the drum of the racing screw, As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new? See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore, And the fenders grind and heave, And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate, And the fall-rope whines through the sheave; It's "Gang-plank up and in," dear lass, It's "Hawsers warp her through!" And it's "All clear aft" on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, We're backing down on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new. O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied, And the sirens hoot their dread! When foot by foot we creep o'er the hueless viewless deep To the sob of the questing lead! It's down by the Lower Hope, dear lass, With the Gunfleet Sands in view, Till the Mouse swings green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, And the Gull Light lifts on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new. O the blazing tropic night, when the wake's a welt of light That holds the hot sky tame, And the steady fore-foot snores through the planet-powdered floors Where the scared whale flukes in flame! Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass, And her ropes are taut with the dew, For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, We're sagging south on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new. Then home, get her home, where the drunken rollers comb, And the shouting seas drive by, And the engines stamp and ring, and the wet bows reel and swing, And the Southern Cross rides high! Yes, the old lost stars wheel back, dear lass, That blaze in the velvet blue. They're all old friends on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, They're God's own guides on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new. Fly forward, O my heart, from the Foreland to the Start -- We're steaming all-too slow, And it's twenty thousand mile to our little lazy isle Where the trumpet-orchids blow! You have heard the call of the off-shore wind, And the voice of the deep-sea rain; You have heard the song -- how long! how long? Pull out on the trail again! The Lord knows what we may find, dear lass, And The Deuce knows what we may do -- But we're back once more on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, We're down, hull down on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.