垂死的虎，因干渴而呻吟——
我遍寻整片沙漠——
得到一块滴水的岩石
将它捧于手中——
他威严的双目，因死而凝重——
我能看见他视网膜上
一个画面
他在寻找水，寻找我——
不应怪罪我行路太慢——
也不应怪罪他已死去
当我来到他身边时——
他的死，已成事实——
A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink—
I hunted all the Sand—
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand—
His Mighty Balls—in death were thick—
But searching—I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water—and of me—
’Twas not my blame—who sped too slow—
’Twas not his blame—who died
While I was reaching him—
But ’twas—the fact that He was dead—