那只是入夜时分的鸟鸣， 无法辨认的鸟, 我从泉边汲水归来， 穿过起伏不平的偏僻草场; 我驻足凝神， 水桶里的天空比头顶的天空还沉寂.
多年以后， 所有的地方和面孔都变得淡漠, 一些人已经死去. 而我身在他乡， 夜色依旧， 我终于确信 比起终将衰败的事物， 我更怀念那鸟鸣中的沉寂
Ornithology in a World of Flux By Robert Penn Warren
It was only a bird call at evening, unidentified, As I came from the spring with water, across the rocky back-pasture; But so still I stood sky above was not stiller than sky in pail-water.
Years pass, all places and faces fade, some people have died, And I stand in a far land, the evening still, and am at last sure That I miss more that stillness at bird-call than some things that were to fail later.