我感觉寂寞，所以
走出去，风扫过院子，再远一点
风让外院凌乱不堪，
找到昨夜月光下，我们留下
两套靴印的地方，当时你中途停下，
穿过黑暗去带来一块
柠檬糕和一部电影，
我们的脚印旁边，有最小的生物的爪印，
那一定是晚些时候跟来过
我追逐着小小爪印及
我们的烂泥凹痕到距离后门较远处
穿过门出去，地上仍然是泥和毛刷
灌木丛和奶牛混杂，我的头发别到头上，
但仍然被风吹动，吹动，
终于呼吸变得沉重，我能看见
寂寥的空旷，日落时分漫长的蓝色线条。
月夜，一架飞机尾随着
另一架飞机降落到
停机坪，所有那些人登陆回家
I was feeling lonely so
I went outside to the wind
swept yard and beyond
that to the wind-tousled outer
yard and found where last
night in the moonlight we left
two sets of boot prints, when
you stopped on your way
through the darkness to bring a
lemon bar and a movie, and
beside ours the tracks of the
smallest thing with claws, which
must have followed sometime
later. And I chased its tiny prints
and our mud-wash indents to
the far back gate and through
the gate out to where the
land is still dirt and brush
and bushes and cow
pies, my hair pinned
to my head but still blowing,
blowing, and finally a hard
breath, and I could see
through lonely to the wide
open, long blue lines of sunset,
moonlit night, the airplanes trailing
one another
down to tarmac, all those
people landing home.
“At Quarter to Five” by Angela Janda from Small Rooms with Gods. © Finishing Line Press, 2014. Reprinted with permission.
