Stonehenge

There they sit for ever around the horizon of my mind, that Stonehenge circle of elderly disapproving Faces—Faces of the Uncles, and Schoolmasters and the Tutors who frowned on my youth.

In the bright centre and sunlight I leap, I caper, I dance my dance; but when I look up, I see they are not deceived. For nothing ever placates them, nothing ever moves to a look of approval that ring of bleak, old, contemptuous Faces.

巨石阵

在那儿，它们永远围坐在我内心的地平线上，那些年长的、什么都看不顺眼的脸庞摆成的巨石阵——有叔伯们的，有校长们的，有老师们的，一张张脸都冲着我的青少年时代皱过眉头。

在巨石阵明亮的中心，在阳光中我蹦跳，我雀跃，我跳着自己的舞；但等我朝上一看，就明白这一切骗不过它们。从来没有什么能使它们消气，从来没有什么能令这一圈黯淡的、倚老卖老的脸庞露出一丝赞许的表情。