这个世界上有许多啰嗦之事：
一个从来没有吻过其他人的人
仍然会说，平静，我的小朋友，你的嘴唇
柔软如八月的杏。但什么事也没有发生，
当然，弥补肉体和质感的这真正的亲密行为，
除了我们翻云覆雨的美好时刻
没有什么能让我们感觉更好，
而我们都败给我们自我的重要性
收集这些被吹落的花瓣，
摇动桑橙的树枝
拒绝保护我们的头
任由雨点落在我们身上。尘世中的祝福
当然，不是我来这儿的初衷：
仍然，黑暗的夜日日携来减弱
即使阴云密布的天空只是掩饰了
潜伏在它们后面的
太阳这盏不灭的灯泡。
鱼尾菊将在十一月下旬开放，
这受虐的花将要聚集在
纤尘的帐篷，生出点点火，
即使在夏天，无论我刚才对你说了什么，
我要，毫无疑问地，再说一次，
不害怕重复我自己，
甚至，这轮升起的月亮低语着睡眠时，也不。
There are many redundancies in the world:
A man who has never kissed another
can still say, Peace, my little friend, your lips
are soft as apricots in August. But nothing,
of course, makes up for the true intimacies
of flesh and fabric, nothing can make us feel better
than the flip and finesse of our finest moments,
when we are lost to our own importance
and gather up the blown petals of flowers,
shake the branches of the mock orange
and refuse to shield our own heads from
what rains down on us. Earthly blessings
are not, of course, primarily what we’re here for;
still, the dark that night brings abates daily
and even the cloudiest skies merely disguise
the unextinguishable lightbulb of the sun
lurking behind them. Zinnias will bloom into
late November, the aggrieved will gather
in their tents of fiber and dust and make
small fires, even in summer, and whatever
I have just said to you, I will, doubtlessly,
say again, without fear of repeating myself,
without, even, the moon’s rising to whisper sleep.
