Hard not to think old brown has got it right, nose up in current, its tail sculling tight curves, nothing seen but what’s coming fast downstream. So easy to get pulled back, so easy to get waylaid, bickered by thought. Not old brown, traveling light from blackness under the flicker of river stones. What if I could last the cold, nourishing a hunger born of depth and surface, stillness and flash, both old and young in my watchfulness, what then?

中文翻译：

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两首诗

很难不认为老棕色是正确的，在水流中鼻子向上，它的尾巴掠过狭窄的曲线，什么也看不见，只有顺流而下的东西。很容易被拉回来，很容易被拦路，被思想争吵。不是古老的棕色，在河石闪烁下从黑暗中散发出淡淡的光芒。如果我能忍受寒冷，滋养因深度和表面、静止和闪光而产生的饥饿，无论老少，我的警惕性如何，然后呢？