不顾母牛的橡皮舌头和人们锄草的手

Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men

蓟象长而尖的刀子捅进夏天的空气中

Thistles spike the summer air

或者冲破蓝黑色土地的压力打开缺口。

And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.

每只蓟都是复活的充满仇恨的爆发，

Every one a revengeful burst

是从埋在地下的腐烂的海盗身上

Of resurrection, a grasped fistful

猛然抛掷上来的一大把

Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost thrust up

残缺的武器和冰岛的霜冻。

From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.

它们象灰白的毛发和俚语的喉音。

They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.

每一只都挥舞着血的笔。

Every one manages a plume of blood.

然后它们变苍老了，象人一样。

Then they grow grey like men.

被刈倒，这就结下了仇。它们的子孙出现，

Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear

戴盔披甲，在原地上厮杀过来

Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.