我无法捕捉的色彩，最好——
让我拿上街市售卖——
那样缥缈的颜色
一个几尼只能看一眼——
这精美、不着痕迹的布设——
在眼中肆意铺展
像埃及艳后的侍驾——
在天空中重现——
统治的时刻
降临在灵魂之上
留下一丝精妙
难以形容的埋怨——
热切的目光，注视着风景——
仿佛它们正克制着
某种秘密，像战车
在胸膛不断地撞击——
夏日在恳求——
冬雪的小把戏——
用轻纱遮住神秘，
生怕松鼠们看穿。
它们难以捉摸，将我们嘲笑——
直到受骗的眼睛
在坟墓中傲慢地阖上——
才能以另一种方式，去看——
The Tint I cannot take—is best—
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar—
A Guinea at a sight—
The fine—impalpable Array—
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra’s Company—
Repeated—in the sky—
The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite—to tell—
The eager look—on Landscapes—
As if they just repressed
Some Secret—that was pushing
Like Chariots—in the Vest—
The Pleading of the Summer—
That other Prank—of Snow—
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels—know.
Their Graspless manners—mock us—
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave—
Another way—to see—