The morning comes to consciousness Of faint stale smells of beer From the sawdust-trampled street.

The morning comes to consciousness Of faint stale smells of beer From the sawdust-trampled street.

早晨，从被锯屑践踏过的街道上，我闻到了淡淡的啤酒的霉味。

-- T. S. Eliot T.S.艾略特