Black swallows nest in the yellow sandbanks.
They swerve into the pale evening sky
In darting specks,
As with closed eyes
You see, in the darkness of eyelids,
Spiraling flecks of black and gold.
The old man waits for the swallows in the springtime
And all summer he watches them.
He sits upon his little porch
In a rocking chair with a cushion at his back,
And sees the swallows play before him
In the early evening light.
He says he will not die in the summer
Nor in the spring,
But when the snow is on the ground
And then he will see the swallows flying
In the darkness of his eyes.
黄色な洲の中の黒い燕の巣。
彼らは青ざめた夕暮の空を突進する斑点となつてさまよつてゐる。
眼を閉ぢて眼瞼の暗いところで黒と金の旋廻する斑点を見てゐるやうに。
その老人は春に燕を待ち、そして彼は夏中彼らを見守つてゐる。
彼は小さな玄関で背後にクツシヨンを置いた揺り椅子に坐つて、うす明るい夕暮の光の中で彼の眼のまへに飛ぶ燕を見てゐる。
彼は云ふ、私は夏には死なないし春にも決してと、
併し雪が地上をうめるとき、彼は燕が彼の眼の中の闇を飛んでゆくのを見るだらう。