收获的月亮
（泰德·休斯/作，张文武/译）
闪着红色火焰的月亮，收获的月亮，
在山间滚动，轻盈地跳跃，
一个巨大的气球，
最后它起飞，坠入夜空
躺在天空的底部，像一枚达布隆金币。
收获的月亮来了，
像低音管一样，悄悄地在天上发出隆隆声。
而土地仿佛敲响了深处的鼓，整夜回应它。
于是人们无法入睡，
于是他们走出家门，来到榆树和栎树跪伏着
守望的地方。一片神圣的寂静。
收获的月亮来了！
月光下所有的母牛和绵羊
呆如石像，抬头向上空凝视着她，而她膨胀着
充满夜空，仿佛又红又热，飞翔着
不断迫近，就像到了世界的末日。
最后，金色的田野里，僵直的麦子
开始高喊：“我们熟了，割了我们吧!”而河流
从融化的群山流淌下来。
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The flame-red moon, the
harvest moon,
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off, and sinks upward
To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.
The harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.
And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.
So people can't sleep,
So they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.
The harvest moon has come!
And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world.
Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers
Sweat from the melting hills.
Ted Hughes
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