A Dying Tiger—Moaned For Drink—
By Emily Dickinson
A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink—
I hunted all the Sand—
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand—
His Mighty Balls—in death were thick—
But searching—I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water—and of me—
'Twas not my blame—who sped too slow—
'Twas not his blame—who died
While I was reaching him—
But 'twas—the fact that He was dead—
垂死的老虎——呻吟着喝水——
垂死的老虎——呻吟着喝水——
我寻遍所有的沙子——
我抓取滴水的岩石
在我手上钻孔
他的巨大的眼珠——死时变浑浊——
但搜寻——我能看见
视网膜上的图像
是水——和我
并非我的错——速度太慢了
并非我的错——它死了
当我够着他时
可是——事实上他已经死了——
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