以一种古怪的姿势,但不难堪也不卑微,我的骄傲的树,并不以贴近泥土为耻。虽然她经历了被锯子凌迟,挨到了三十几个年轮轰然坍塌,但这个姿势,对于我的树一点也不可笑。我知道有个诗人,趿拉着一双黑圆口布鞋,来到我的村子,路过我的树。 In a strange posture, but not embarrassed nor humble, my proud tree, not as close to the soil ashamed. Although she had been slowed by the saw, it was time for thirty ringlets to collapse, but this position was not ridiculous to my tree. I know a poet, I pulled a pair of black round cloth shoes, came to my village, passing by my tree.