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Gerard Manley Hopkins
Balsam floods the woods,
swathing（包围） our senses
Ferns flutter in the shadow
of the wind moving through,
of the gorge like the sun lowers
its long beams through the green
lattice of leaves above. We hope
to hit bottom as the thrush（画眉）
throws its deep voice across the ravine
where a woodpecker knocks on a door
tumbles down, greets us at the stream,
which even now rips through rock,
then pools its energy along the banks
where minnows animate
the ruin, stirring the cup
flashes of hallelujah.
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