Not the moon. A flower

不是月亮。而是一朵花

on the other side of the water.

浮现在水的另一边。

The water sweeps past in flood,

水汹涌而去，

dragging a whole tree by the hair,

裹挟着树枝，卷走了一整棵树，

a barn, a bridge. The flower

一座谷仓和一座桥。花

sings on the far bank.

在遥远的岸上歌唱。

Not a flower, a bird calling

不是一朵花，而是一只鸟，

hidden among the darkest trees, music

藏在最幽深的树林中鸣唱，歌声

over the water, making a silence

掠过水面，在河流棕色的褶皱中

out of the brown folds of the river's cloak.

制造出一种沉默。

The moon. No, a young man walking

月亮。不，是一个年轻男子正走在

under the trees. There are lanterns

树下。树叶间

among the leaves.

挂着灯笼。

Tender, wise, merry,

温柔，聪明又愉悦，

his face is awake with its own light,

他的脸焕发着天然的光芒，

I see it across the water as if close up.

我看见它穿过水面，仿佛在靠近。

A jester. The music rings from his bells,

是一个小丑。他的铃铛庄严地

gravely, a tune of sorrow,

摇响，一种悲伤的曲调，

I dance to it on my riverbank.

我在河岸应和着起舞。