午夜到早晨八点，我和机器一起度过，
伴着它们持续不断的嗡嗡声，嘈杂声和刮擦声，
喀嚓声，运行良好的榫接发出的嘎吱声
贯穿于这个夜晚。听着机床的旋转，铣刀
像饥饿的鸟儿一样啄着每一个零件，
磨床分解的更小牙齿制造出超细微的粉尘，
被嗡嗡叫的风扇扬向天空。
我随着这样的音乐点头，想到你
在陡峭的山坡上俯瞰摩根顿
你整也梦见你的工厂里睡眠，创自于
每一次甜美呼吸的瞬间。
呼进，呼出，
熬夜工作，让每一刻现在都做得正确。
Midnight to eight I spend with machines,
with their incessant hum, the hubbub and scrape,
the snip-snip, the whine of well-oiled tongues
that winds through the night. I listen to lathes
go round, to mills that peck at each part-piece
like hungry birds, to grinders whose bit-sized
teeth make ultra-fine dust, golden iotas
drawn toward heaven by the drone of a fan.
I nod to this music and think of you
on a steep hill overlooking Morgantown
where you dream all night in your factory
of sleep, creating from each sweet breath
a new instant. Breathing in, breathing out,
working all night, making each now right.
