书中的诗
他和她撒开小脚丫飞奔。
癞蛤蟆的“咕儿呱呱“。起起伏伏的，
那声音，踩着调子哟，将暮天荡开，
浸入静静的四野。
他们的笑声，洗着袭面而来的闷热气浪，
落在头发上，耳朵上，肩上，胸前，和手中的箕形指纹上，
--是它们馈赠着天步的谜。
他的黑色体恤，抱住了悠游的晚风，
和一大捧蚱蜢儿；
暮色枯萎的角落里，有萤火轻轻的扶琴弦，
从那丝绒般的光中，终于，
飘来湿唇的是晚饭香。
He and she flew all the small toes way apart.
The plunking of toads. Being curve,
that sound stepped the measure to spread the twilight wide,
drinking in the quite wildwood.
Their laughters, which washed the stuffy seas of air coming head-on,
dropped on the hair, the ears, the shoulders, the fronts,
and the loop-figured dabs in the hands,
—it was they that endowed the riddles of one’s step only the heavens could write.
His black T-shirt embraced the wandering night-wind
and a great cup of grasshoppers,
and where the corner was of the withering twilight,
the glowworm lights were soft in plucking lyre wires,
the lights, velvet-like, from which at last,
there trickling for supper to wet the lips was the appetite.
（来自我书《Bas-reliefs》中的A Night after Game)
