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"These are ships on swift water," he told me, "going to far-off lands where strangers will see them." He had a special love for autumn leaves, and he'd pick them up when we were out walking and ask me to identify them. He'd talk about how pretty each leaf was and how a leaf was prettier after it was dead than when it was alive and growing.
“这些就是急流中的小船，”他告诉我，“它们会驶向遥远的地方，那里的陌生人将会看到它们。”他对秋叶有种特别的钟爱，我们外出散步时，他常常拾起落叶，要我辨认它们。他会谈论每片树叶如何的美丽，以及枯黄的叶子如何比生长在树上的时候更美丽。
Many people thought my father was just a one-horse farmer who never got much out of life. They saw only a little man, dressed in clean, patched overalls, with callused and brier-scratched hands. They often saw the beard along his face. And they saw him go off and just stand in a field and look at something. They thought he was moody. Well, he was that all right, but when he was standing there and people thought he was looking into space, he was looking at a flower or a mushroom or a new bug he'd discovered for the first time. And when he looked up into a tree, he wasn't searching for a hornet's nest to burn or a bird's nest to rob. He wasn't trying to find a bee tree. He was just looking closely at the beauty in a tree. And among the millions, he always found one different enough to excite him.
许多人认为父亲不过是一个微不足道的农民，一生中没有什么成就。他们看到的只是一个小人物，穿着干净的打着补丁的工装裤，有一双长满老茧、被荆棘划伤了的手。他们经常见到他蓄着络腮胡字。他们看见他离开家，只是站在庄稼地里观察着什么。他们觉得他郁郁寡欢。哦，那倒是真的，但是，当他站在那儿，而人们以为他在茫然直视，他其实正在欣赏一朵花或者一株蘑菇，或是他第一次发现的一种昆虫。当他抬头仔细端详一棵树时，并不是在寻找大黄蜂的窝去烧，也不是找鸟窝去掏。他也并非试图寻找一棵招蜂的树。他只是在仔细欣赏树的美丽。在几百万棵树中，他总会发现一棵树时那么与众不同，这足以让他感到兴奋。
