在北海岸旁几处零落的砂丘中间矗立着一间穷苦渔夫的小屋。当海滨的暴风来时,窗子上的玻璃插在边框里瑯珰地响着,屋内炉火的烈焰高高地喷着。但现在是在寂静的夜晚,满天的繁星放着闪烁的光芒;镜一般平的海面上,全没有汹涌的波浪;只有那海水碰在岸上,时刻发出单调的劈啪的声音。 In the middle of a few scattered sand hills next to the North Coast, a poor fisherman’s hut is standing. When the storm on the seashore came, the glass on the window was crackling in the frame, and the flames of the fire in the house were blowing high. But now on a still night, the stars are shining; the mirror-flat sea is full of turbulent waves; and only the sea water touches the shore, and the monotonous groaning sounds.