我听到树林里的鸟鸣，风的低吟，偶尔还听到潺潺的溪水声。
I heard birds, the wind the trees, and the occasional murmur of a stream.
沼泽谷另一边的山峦隐隐约约地把回答传了过来——“你在哪儿？”我倾听着。风在冷杉中低吟着，一切只有荒原的孤独和午夜的沉寂。
The hills beyond Marsh Glen sent the answer faintly back — Where are you? I listened. The wind sighed low in the firs: all was moorland loneliness and midnight hush.
逃亡过一个季节，又一个昨天。只有风还在空气中低吟着，留下飘渺的流沙以作时光祭。
Escape a season, another yesterday. Only the wind is still in the air with low moans, leaving featherweight quicksand to make time offering.
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