The slanting rays of the sun were still hot; his clothes were wet through with perspiration and stuck to his body; his left boot, full of water, was heavy and made a smacking sound; down his face, grimy with powder, ran drops of sweat; a bitter taste was in his mouth, the smell of powder and rust was in his nose, and the perpetual cry of the snipe was in his ears; he could not touch the barrels of his gun, they were so hot; his heart thumped with short, quick beats; his hands trembled with excitement and his tired feet stumbled as he dragged them over the hummocks and through the bog; but still he went on and shot.
I raggi obliqui del sole erano ancora caldi; il vestito, passato da parte a parte dal sudore, si appiccicava al corpo; lo stivale sinistro, pieno d’acqua, era pesante e ciangottava; il sudore gli colava a gocce per il viso sporco del sedimento della polvere; in bocca aveva un certo sapore amaro, nel naso odor di polvere e d’acqua rugginosa, negli orecchi l’incessante zirlio delle beccacce; le canne del fucile non si potevano toccare tanto erano roventi, il cuore aveva battiti forti e rapidi, le mani gli tremavano per l’agitazione, e le gambe stanche inciampavano e si intersecavano nelle anfrattuosità del terreno melmoso; ma egli continuava a camminare e a sparare.