温经天 译
你在房屋一侧的架子上寻找
它就在头发、鞋带和树枝所编织的
盒子间，
我在花园里，浇灌
八月种的菜，绿意半透明
莴苣丛生在十一月的曦光下。
潮湿，土壤闻起来像春天，
像你诊断前的几个月，
那时我们还不知道确切的性质
关于彼此的悲伤。至于这个
锚定在钢刷顶部的小小星系，它以狂野之姿
编织着空心，光滑的泥浆充实着
弹簧挂坠盒，育雏在夏日，
我们研究过它漂浮在尖刺上的柔韧度。
以我对鸟类的认知
它们吞咽曦光，
支撑自己驶入黑暗隧道
不会太过艰辛，
它们用翅膀将重力搅动到空气中。
那时正是
你我生活终结的起始。
我再也找不到哪个瞬间
不具危险和甜蜜了。
这个世界上美总被设计
用以取代那些不美的本质
从没有受过规训。
如果我们在这里伫立得足够久
我们的手将会摸到，金星出现
在榆树顶部
叶子飘落得又红又慢。
On the Vireo Nest Atop Your Wire BrushJulia B. Levine
When you find it between boxes
on a shelf beside the house,
woven with hair and shoelace and twigs,
I am in the garden, watering lettuce
we planted in August, green spears of romaine
translucent in November’s side-lit sun.
Wet, the soil smells like spring,
like the months before your diagnosis,
when we didn’t yet know the exact nature
of our sorrow. As for this small galaxy
anchored on top of your steel brush,
with its wild knit and mud-slicked hollow,
its sprung locket of a summer brood,
we study how softness floats over spikes.
What I think I know about birds
is the sunlight they swallow,
so that the dark tunnels they enter
will not be difficult,
their wings stirring gravity into air.
This is the beginning
of the end of our days.
I can no longer find a single moment
that is not perilous and sweet.
That is not schooled in a world
where beauty was designed
to be replaced.
If we stand here long enough
our hands will touch. Venus will appear,
there just above the elm,
its leaves falling red and slow.
