黄昏·归途

（罗伯特·布莱/作，张文武/译）

静脉中，海军舰队在向前航行
吃水线上有细微的爆裂
咸咸的血的上空，海鸥在风中穿行

这是早上。乡村沉睡了一整个冬天
窗口的座位上覆盖着毛皮，院子里满是
僵硬的狗和拿着厚重书本的笨拙的手

这时，我们醒了，从床上起来吃早餐！
喊叫声从血的港口传来
阳光中，薄雾和桅杆托起了木具的敲击声

这时，我们唱起歌，在厨房地板上轻轻地跳舞
我们的整个身体就像那黎明的港口
我们知道，船长已将我们留给了白昼

Waking from Sleep

Inside the veins there are navies setting forth
Tiny explosions at the water lines
And seagulls weaving in the wind of the salty blood.

It is the morning. The country has slept the whole winter.
Window seats were covered with fur skins the yard was full
Of stiff dogs and hands that clumsily held heavy books.

Now we wake and rise from bed and eat breakfast!-
Shouts rise from the harbor of the blood
Mist and masts rising the knock of wooden tackle in the sunlight.

Now we sing and do tiny dances on the kitchen floor.
Our whole body is like a harbor at dawn;
We know that our master has left us for the day.