一棵花楸树像撅着嘴的女孩。
在小路和大道之间，
一些赤杨远远地站在
湿漉漉的灯心草丛中。

土语像泥泞中绽开的花朵，
完美的音调不凋的蜡菊，
此刻，鸟在这一切的音乐中，
近乎地啼唱。

A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.

There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.