On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand has Passed
On fields o'er which the reaper's hand has pass'd
Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun,
My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind
And of such fineness as October airs,
There after harvest could I glean my life
A richer harvest reaping without toil,
And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will
In subtler webs than finest summer haze.
收割者用手抚过的田野
收割者用手抚过的田野
被收获的月亮和秋日照亮，
我的思想，像豆茬在空中漂浮
像十月的空气一样明朗，
在那里，收割之后，我捡拾我的人生
不用费力收割的丰收，
在比夏日最好的云雾还要微妙的网内
我随意编织绚丽的想像。
（张文武/翻译）
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