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外链地址
http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/5761b6f9e96c09b22c64487dae37f13f.mp3
点击复制A mill beside a tawny stream
Where maple scraps complete a dream;
The vat receives the pulped refrain
And spreads a sheet from sifted grain
Fibers cross like humble hands
They hold a field for future lands;
An empty page becomes a vow
To give the next arriving now
Ink travels through the autumn air
A raven’s quill a writer’s care;
The letters grow like evening wheat
From soil inside a human beat
I stack the pages smooth and warm
A harvest made from patient form;
The papermaker folds the year—
Blankness that makes meaning clear