绍特.鲁斯塔夫利
自真不去注意的废墟下我吟着短诗，
在下面我哭喊着多么大的一场雪崩啊：
就像我在生石灰中燃烧着
在地下寝室的电压下。
我要模仿一个冬天，沉默而迷茫，
飞快地靠近，总是开着的入口，
而且他们将会听见我孤独的声音，
相信这将是他们最后的宣判。
From under what deaf ruins I speak rhyme,
From under what an avalanche cry out:
Like I am burning in the white quicklime
Under the volts of chambers underground.
I’ll simulate a winter, mute and lost,
And close, fast, the ever opened entrance,
But they will hear my alone voice,
And trust in it will be their final sentence.
