英文詩詞:Streets

　　by Naomi Shihab Nye

　　A man leaves the world

　　and the streets he lived on

　　grow a little shorter.

　　One more window dark

　　in this city， the figs on his branches

　　will soften for birds.

　　If we stand quietly enough evenings

　　there grows a whole company of us

　　standing quietly together.

　　overhead loud grackles are claiming their trees

　　and the sky which sews and sews， tirelessly sewing，

　　drops her purple hem.

　　Each thing in its time， in its place，

　　it would be nice to think the same about people.

　　Some people do. They sleep completely，

　　waking refreshed. Others live in two worlds，

　　the lost and remembered.

　　They sleep twice， once for the one who is gone，

　　once for themselves. They dream thickly，

　　dream double， they wake from a dream

　　into another one， they walk the short streets

　　calling out names， and then they answer.

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