Fog
By Carl Sandgurg
The fog comes on little cat feet.
It sits looking.
Over harbor and cityon silent haunches
and then moves on.
雾
当浓雾到来,
落到小猫的指尖,
它就这样安静的蹲着,
遥望城市和港湾,
然后转身离开。
此诗歌就意境本身已经精致到无可挑剔,但是再看诗歌本身,词句组合也正形如一只蹲着的小猫。