在秋天的迁徙飞行中，天鹅们化身为长着翅膀的飞仙，似银箭一般刺破蓝天，此情此景不免会勾起诗意愁绪来：光阴渐长，时日变短，又是一年将来到。
Swans on their autumnal migratory flight—the celestial flutter of wings, the silver arrow of a flock splitting the sky—evoke poetic melancholy. Shadows lengthen. Days shorten. Another year closes in.
山坡上的橡树林，树叶凋落，风儿嚎啕过处，犹如猛虎下山，威风振振。花岗石崖上，青苔斑斑，也似奇异画面；银松林里，白色茫茫。
I can roar through the leafless oaks and shout down the hillside, and it can murmur in the white pines rooted among the granite ledges where lichen makes strange hieroglyphics.
她的嗓音婉转似汩汩的银溪。
西斯·潘尼·奥拉号正鼓起主帆和两个大三角帆前进，美丽的白帆在阳光下如雪似银。
The Hispaniola was under her main-sail and two jibs, and the beautiful white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver.
西斯·潘尼·奥拉号正鼓起主帆和两个大三角帆前进，美丽的白帆在阳光下如雪似银。
The Hispaniola was under her main-sail and two jibs, and the beautiful white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver.
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