他躺在一个温暖柔软的运动世界里。颜色开了又开，栗色、绿松石色、藏红花、红色，一波又一波的波浪破裂、旋转，消失在灰绿色的幽暗中，没有透视和阴影。一个膨胀的世界，没有围墙，一个流动的世界，最像大海，包围了所有的无限，在一个无形的，退潮的房间，一个无休止的涨落潮…他睡了又醒，又睡。当面纱落下，时间溜走了;宇宙变成了孩子们玩耍的玩具，睡眠锁紧了感官之门——他躺在赤裸的无力之中;就像一只湿透了的飞蛾，沉重地爬上棕色的、被阳光烤焦的墙壁，坠落在废墟中，她的任务没有完成，但不知何故，她向太阳努力。所以，他睡觉的时候，他的手攥得更紧，像拳击手的老样子，他的脚蜷曲着抓住地面，他的肌肉绷紧，准备跳跃;尽管他感到，感到孤独，奇怪的光亮把他搅动到骨头里，渴望起来——直到更深的睡眠，埋葬了希望，呼唤，跳跃;一阵风吹灭了他心中微弱的火花。 He was absorbed into the dark. He woke again and felt a surge Within him, a mysterious urge That grew one hungry flame of passion; The whole world altered shape and fashion. Deceived, befooled, bereft and torn, He scourged the heavens with his scorn, Lifting a bitter voice to cry Against the eternal treachery -- Till, suddenly, he found the breast, And ceased, and all things were at rest, The earth grew one warm languid sea And he a wave. Joy, tingling, crept Throughout him. He was quenched and slept. So, while the moon made broad her ring, He slept and cried and was a king. So, worthily, he acted o'er The endless miracle once more. Facing immense adventures daily, He strove still onward, weeping, gaily, Conquered or fled from them, but grew As soil-starved, rough pine-saplings do. Till, one day, crawling seemed suspect. He gripped the air and stood erect And splendid. With immortal rage He entered on man's heritage!