流沙

Quicksands

悦耳的丧钟声，从不知多远的地方飘来，为那些黎明前去世的人哀唱，此刻唤醒了睡在舟中的我，舟正泊在熟悉的岸旁。

Sweet funeral bells from some incalculable distance, wailing over the dead that die before the dawn, awakened me as I slept in a boat moored to some familiar shore.The morning twilight even then was breaking; and, by the dusky revelations which it spread, I saw a girl adorned with a garland of white roses about her head for some great festival, running along the solitary strand with extremity of haste.