我的长长的镰刀留下了一堆稻草并低语着:“这让我们重新回到割草的劳动中。
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make "It returns us to the work of mowing."
阿摩司曾谈到列王割草的事。
春天一闻到花香或者夏天一开始割草的时候,你会不会不自觉流泪?
Do your eyes water just at the thought of sniffing a spring flower or mowing summer grass?
The hay, that is, well, what? The payoff, what the poem is all about, what mowing is all about.
这堆草又是什么呢,是成果,诗歌的成果,割草的结果。
He has that phrase, / "Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak / to the earnest love that laid the swale in rows.
他写了这样一句,任何超过真理的东西都显得很脆弱/,用最真挚的爱意割下一排排草。
It doesn't think to itself, "How shall I get that blade of grass that's been eluding me?"
它并不会对自己发问,我该如何割掉那束一直躲着我的草
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