The creek is live and rolling hard across the bass middle of the rocks. A stampede of young bucks pounding the forest floor filling in the staccato rhythm around the song’s only voice. How it swells the room past its seams; she could be anywhere, her voice throwing itself against elm and dogwood, makes the jimsonweed nod and flex open its trumpet head. The gerund making the line swing just before she tells you where you’re going just above, riding just above she says or sometimes ride angels above when I’m listening differently. Resounding with what I’m seeing: three kids alternating pushing and pumping on the swingset saying higher, higher. In other versions of the song, we see the word nigger replaces mourner, so. (Isn’t desire a kind of mourning?) I was with her in that room as she wrang the throatmud of its salt. To catch the bead of sweat that falls, I’m sure, from her brow or full sideburn as she shifts her weight and one floorboard cracks on my tongue. I know one truth about the throat and air’s twin desire to become more than muscle and brute faith. She yelps and ohs the mourner across the field. Call the mourner me; she pushes me across the field where there’s someone singing to me from the other side, I’m listening. Say what you will, the voice has always been light eddying through mud. Or, don’t say anything. Someone has sung me all my hurts, someone is calling my name.

中文翻译：

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奔跑，哀悼者，奔跑和：从不

这条小溪生机勃勃，在岩石的低音中间猛烈滚动。一群年轻的雄鹿猛烈地撞击着森林的地面，在这首歌的唯一声音周围充满了断断续续的节奏。它如何使房间膨胀超过其接缝；她可以在任何地方，她的声音对着榆树和山茱萸发出声音，使金森威德点头并张开喇叭的头。动名词在她告诉你你要去哪里之前就摆动线，就在上面，就在她说的上面，或者有时当我听不同的时候骑在天使上面。与我所看到的一样：三个孩子在秋千上交替推动和抽水，说更高，更高。在这首歌的其他版本中，我们看到 nigger 这个词取代了 mourner，所以。（欲望难道不是一种哀悼吗？）我和她一起在那个房间里，她拧着盐的喉咙。我敢肯定，为了接住掉下来的汗珠，从她的额头或鬓角，因为她转移了她的体重，我舌头上的一块地板裂开了。我知道一个关于喉咙和空气的双重愿望，即不仅仅是肌肉和野蛮的信仰。她大喊大叫，在田野上哀悼哀悼者。叫哀悼者我；她把我推过田野，那里有人从另一边对我唱歌，我在听。随你怎么说，声音一直在泥泞中轻柔地回旋。或者，什么都不说。有人为我唱了所有的伤痛，有人在呼唤我的名字。她把我推过田野，那里有人从另一边对我唱歌，我在听。随你怎么说，声音一直在泥泞中轻柔地回旋。或者，什么都不说。有人为我唱了所有的伤痛，有人在呼唤我的名字。她把我推过田野，那里有人从另一边对我唱歌，我在听。随你怎么说，声音一直在泥泞中轻柔地回旋。或者，什么都不说。有人为我唱了所有的伤痛，有人在呼唤我的名字。