张洁 译
我在参加派对回家的路上，
十点三十分，一个漆黑的冬夜，没有星星，
几朵雪花飘落在
我的前灯的手臂上，它们正
摸索着黑暗的背部，
拽出里面的东西，一个信箱，另一个，
一只搬运宝石的猫。在一个小镇的
边缘，我路过了四颗星星，它们放在
没有足迹的雪地上在一个寒冷的古老的
教堂墓地里。它们当然是那些
太阳能灯，用来标记路径，
尽管没有人行走在它们中间
在那个时辰。它们构成了唯一
我所能看见的星座，而尽管
死者仰面躺着，也可以
抬头看假如他们愿意的话，
但他们的眼睛是闭着的，没有一个灵魂
正从中找出任何意义。
The Constellation
by Ted Kooser
I was on my way home from a party,
ten-thirty, a dark winter night, no stars,
a few snowflakes drifting down over
the arms of my headlights, which were
searching the back of the darkness,
pulling things out, a mailbox, another,
a cat carrying sparklers. At the edge
of a town, I passed four stars, placed
on the untracked snow in a cold old
churchyard. They were of course those
solar-powered lights for marking paths,
though no one walked among them
at that hour. They made up the only
constellation I could see, and though
the dead lay on their backs, and might
have looked up if they wanted to,
their eyes were closed, and not a soul
was finding any meaning in it.
