雙語(yǔ)·叢林故事 獨(dú)生子

The Only Son

She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew,

For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great gray paw

　　came through.

The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roof-beam,

And the Only Son lay down again and dreamed that he dreamed

　　a dream.

The last ash fell from the withered log with the click of a falling

　　spark,

And the Only Son woke up again, and called across the dark:—

“Now was I born of womankind and laid in a mother's breast?

For I have dreamed of a shaggy hide whereon I went to rest.

And was I born of womankind and laid on a father's arm?

For I have dreamed of clashing teeth that guarded me from harm.

And was I born an Only Son and did I play alone?

For I have dreamed of comrades twain that bit me to the bone.

And did I break the barley-cake and steep it in the tyre?

For I have dreamed of a youngling kid new-riven from the byre:

For I have dreamed of a midnight sky and a midnight call to blood,

And red-mouthed shadows racing by, that thrust me from my food.

Tis an hour yet and an hour yet to the rising of the moon,

But I can see the black roof-tree as plain as it were noon.

Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the trooping

　　blackbuck go,

But I can hear the little fawn that bleats behind the doe.

Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the crop and the

　　upland meet,

But I can smell the wet dawn-wind that wakes the sprouting

　　wheat.

Unbar the door, I may not bide, but I must out and see

　　If those are wolves that wait outside or my own kin to me!”

She loosed the bar, she slid the bolt, she opened the door anon,

And a gray bitch-wolf came out of the dark and fawned on the

　　Only Son!