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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.”
這一片土地紅得耀眼，雨后更紅得像鮮血一般，干旱時便成了滿地的紅磚粉，這是世界上最好的產棉地。這里有潔白的房屋，翻耕過的田地，緩緩流過的黃泥河水，但同時也是一個由陽光燦爛和陰翳深濃形成對比的地方。尚待種植的空地和綿延數英里的棉花田微笑著袒露在陽光之中。在這些田地的邊緣上有著一片處女林，即使在最炎熱的中午它們也是幽暗而清涼的，而且顯得有點神秘，有點不那么和善，其中那些颼颼作響的松樹好像懷著老年人的耐心在等待著，好像輕輕的嘆息：“當心呀！你們原先是我們的。我們能夠把你們要回來?！?/P>
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.
坐在走廊里的三個年輕人聽到得得的馬蹄聲，馬具鏈環的丁當聲和黑奴們的歡笑聲；那些干農活的人和騾馬從地里回來了。這時從屋子里傳來思嘉的母親愛倫·奧哈拉溫和的聲音，她在呼喚提著鑰匙、籃子的黑女孩，后者用尖脆的聲調答道：“太太，來啦，”于是便傳來從后面過道里走向薰臘室的腳步聲，愛倫要到那里去給回家的田間勞動者分配食物。接著便聽到瓷器當當和銀餐具丁丁的響聲，這時管衣著和膳事的男仆波克已經在擺桌子開晚飯了。
