8.
A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'T is but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs;
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings!
Mirth is the mail of anguish,
In which it cautions arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And"You're hurt"exclaim!
8.
受伤的鹿跳最高，
我听猎人讲过;
它不过是死亡的迷狂，
然后灌木丛静归平常。
被击碎的岩石飞溅，
被踩踏的钢铁反弹;
脸颊之所以更红
是因兴奋的刺痛!
欢笑是痛苦的战书，
在其中警告手臂，
免得有人看到血迹
惊叫:“你受伤了!”
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