我独自在漫步在田间小路，此刻夕阳像一个守财奴似的，正藏起它的最后的金子。

白昼渐渐没入深深黑暗之中，那已经收割了的田地，孤寂、沉默地躺在那里。

天空里突然传来一个男孩子的尖锐的歌声。他穿过看不见的黑暗，将他的歌声留在静谧的黄昏里。

他的家坐落在荒地边缘的村落里，穿过甘蔗田，躲藏在香蕉树，瘦长的槟榔树，椰子树和深绿色的榴梿树的阴影里。

我在星光下独自走着，路上停留了一会，我看见黑幽暗的大地展开在我的面前，用她的手臂拥抱着无量数的家庭，在那些家庭里有着摇篮和床铺，母亲们的心和夜晚的灯，还有年轻轻的生命，他们满心欢乐，却浑然不知这样的欢乐对于世界的价值。

The Home

I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was hiding its last gold like a miser.

The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness，and the widowed land，whose harvest had been reaped，lay silent.

Suddenly a boy’s shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed the dark unseen，leaving the track of his song across the hush of the evening.

His village home lay there at the end of the waste land，beyond the sugar‐cane field，hidden among the shadows of the banana and the slender areca palm，the cocoa‐nut and the dark green jack‐fruit trees.

I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight，and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds，mother’s hearts and evening lamps，and young lives glad with a gladness that knows nothing of its value for the world.