It is March
如今三月
It is March and black dust falls out of the books
如今三月时分，尘埃跌出书本
Soon I will be gone
倏而我将要远走
The tall spirit who lodged here has
Left already
寓居于此的那个强大灵魂也已消弭
On the avenues the colorless thread lies under
Old prices
林荫道上，旧价签下的丝线逐渐褪去
When you look back there is always the past
而当你回首过往
Even when it has vanished
哪怕前尘已成云烟
But when you look forward
但你直视前方
With your dirty knuckles and the wingless
Bird on your shoulder
用你乌黑的指头，和那立于肩头的无翼之鸟
What can you write
何以书写
The bitterness is still rising in the old mines
老矿井的苦难仍在增加
The fist is coming out of the egg
拳头从鸡蛋中伸出
The thermometers out of the mouths of the corpses
温度计，衔于死尸的嘴
At a certain height
在某一确定的高度上
The tails of the kites for a moment are
Covered with footsteps
在某些瞬间，风筝的尾布满脚印
Whatever I have to do has not yet begun
那些我必须得做的事，尚未开始
~ W.S. Merwin
“本译文仅供个人研习、欣赏语言之用，谢绝任何转载及用于任何商业用途。本译文所涉法律后果均由本人承担。本人同意简书平台在接获有关著作权人的通知后，删除文章。”
