Where, in your twilit spots, there was birdsong and silver streams, there also sprang up many songs from my bosom, fresh and bright.
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On, en les vostres penombres, hi havia cant d’ocells i fonts argentines, sorgiren també moltes cançons del meu cor, fresques i clares.
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A tepid wind flowed sluggishly through the twilit forest, creating a shimmer of motion through the leaves but doing nothing to alleviate the overwhelming stillness that had fallen after the weapon’s noisy little display.
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Un vent tebi corria mandrosament pel bosc crepuscular, creant un moviment entre les fulles, però sense alleujar l’aclaparadora quietud que havia caigut després de la sorollosa exhibició de l’arma.
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