诗选（十九）

The cricket's chirp and the patter of rain come to me through the dark, like the rustle of dreams from my past youth.

蟋蟀的唧唧，夜雨的淅沥，从黑暗中传到我的耳边，好似我已逝的少年时代沙沙地来到我梦境中。

“I have lost my dewdrop,” cries the flower to the morning sky that has lost all its stars.

花朵向星辰落尽了的曙天叫道：“我的露点全失落了。”

The burning log bursts in flame and cries,—"This is my flower, my death."

燃烧着的木块，熊熊地生出火光，叫道：“这是我的花朵，我的死亡。”