在一条绿树篱，朱红屋顶的街道上，
嘎吱打开进入香蕉庭院的门
在姜的召唤下门发出哼哼声
后面耸立着五棵棕榈树冠饰的小山
它修长的手指正拨弄这热带的年鉴
因灰色大草原上的雨而发黑
瘤牛和野牛，还有几乎被抹掉的
亚洲白垩小庙，
缠着头巾的骑手拿着饰有羽毛的长矛穿过
甘蔗的热烈鼓掌欢迎。
白云般的白鹭，苍鹭的色调是
湿透的石板色，犹如穿过幻梦
甜美如发疟疾的孩子焦干的嘴唇
被仆人或他自己的妈妈抚慰，
突然屋顶上有大雨落下的声音，
祝福的骤雨，耳中都是冷冰冰的浪。
In a green street of hedges and vermilion roofs,
and gates that creak open into banana yards
and doors that groan on the evocation of ginger
behind which are the hill with five cresting palms
whose long fingers are stirring tropical almanacs
darkened with rain over the grey savannahs
of zebu and bison and the small chalk temples
of an almost erased Asia, and the ovations of cane
through which turbaned horsemen carry feathering lances.
The cloud-white egret, the heron whose hue
is wet slate, move through a somnolence
as sweet as malaria to a child whose parched lips
are soothed by a servant or his own mother,
to the sudden great sound of rain on the roofs,
cloudburst of benedictions, dry seas in the ears.
