Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men

不顾母牛的橡皮舌头和人们锄草的手

Thistles spike the summer air

蓟象长而尖的刀子捅进夏天的空气中

And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.

或者冲破蓝黑色土地的压力打开缺口。

Every one a revengeful burst

每只蓟都是复活的充满仇恨的爆发，

Of resurrection, a grasped fistful

是从埋在地下的腐烂的海盗身上

Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost thrust up

猛然抛掷上来的一大把

From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.

残缺的武器和冰岛的霜冻。

They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.

它们象灰白的毛发和俚语的喉音。

Every one manages a plume of blood.

每一只都挥舞着血的笔。

Then they grow grey like men.

然后它们变苍老了，象人一样。

Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear

被刈倒，这就结下了仇。它们的子孙出现，

Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.

戴盔披甲，在原地上厮杀过来