by 霍华德·奈莫洛夫
当你注视到，麻雀觅食，冷雨细细
它又化作雪花片片
随着不可见的降温坡度
从银灰斜线，转变为任意，洁白，舒漫。
这就是那么一个瞬间，你不能辨别。
澄然地，它们是飞舞，而不是下坠。
（微笑 译）
Because You Asked about the Line between Prose and Poetry
Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned into pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.
There came a moment that you couldn't tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
（HOWARD NEMEROV，1920-1991）
