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It was a savagely red land, blood-colored after rains, brick dust in droughts, the best cotton land in the world. It was a pleasant land of white houses, peaceful plowed fields and sluggish yellow rivers, but a land of contrasts, of brightest sun glare and densest shade. The plantation clearings and miles of cotton fields smiled up to a warm sun, placid, complacent. At their edges rose the virgin forests, dark and cool even in the hottest noons, mysterious, a little sinister, the soughing pines seeming to wait with an age-old patience, to threaten with soft sighs: “Be careful! Be careful! We had you once. We can take you back again.”
这一片土地红得耀眼，雨后更红得像鲜血一般，干旱时便成了满地的红砖粉，这是世界上最好的产棉地。这里有洁白的房屋，翻耕过的田地，缓缓流过的黄泥河水，但同时也是一个由阳光灿烂和阴翳深浓形成对比的地方。尚待种植的空地和绵延数英里的棉花田微笑着袒露在阳光之中。在这些田地的边缘上有着一片处女林，即使在最炎热的中午它们也是幽暗而清凉的，而且显得有点神秘，有点不那么和善，其中那些飕飕作响的松树好像怀着老年人的耐心在等待着，好像轻轻的叹息：“当心呀！你们原先是我们的。我们能够把你们要回来。”
To the ears of the three on the porch came the sounds of hooves, the jingling of harness chains and the shrill careless laughter of negro voices, as the field hands and mules came in from the fields. From within the house floated the soft voice of Scarlett’s mother, Ellen O’Hara, as she called to the little black girl who carried her basket of keys. The high-pitched, childish voice answered “Yas’m,” and there were sounds of footsteps going out the back way toward the smokehouse where Ellen would ration out the food to the home-coming hands. There was the click of china and the rattle of silver as Pork, the valet-butler of Tara, laid the table for supper.
坐在走廊里的三个年轻人听到得得的马蹄声，马具链环的丁当声和黑奴们的欢笑声；那些干农活的人和骡马从地里回来了。这时从屋子里传来思嘉的母亲爱伦·奥哈拉温和的声音，她在呼唤提着钥匙、篮子的黑女孩，后者用尖脆的声调答道：“太太，来啦，”于是便传来从后面过道里走向薰腊室的脚步声，爱伦要到那里去给回家的田间劳动者分配食物。接着便听到瓷器当当和银餐具丁丁的响声，这时管衣着和膳事的男仆波克已经在摆桌子开晚饭了。
