But the meadows had never a grass blade, And the brooklet-it slept in its bed

可这片土地却寸草不生，小溪也只在自己的温床上静静流淌。

The air was very still, not a grass blade rustled, and far away and faint she could hear that sound.

空气很寂静， 没有一片草叶沙沙作响，远远的，隐约可见的她能听到那种声音。

One program came on after another, and all of them were punk. She didn't especially care. She smoked and picked a little bunch of grass blades. After a while a new announcer started talking. He mentioned Beethoven.

一个节目接一个节目上演，个个都很朋克。她并不特别在意。她抽着烟，摘了一小束草叶。过了一会儿，一个新的播音员开始讲话。他提到了贝多芬。