As the doors glide shut behind me,

当滑动门在我背后关上，

the world flares back into being—

世界闪着火焰回归——

I exist again, recover myself,

我重新存在，恢复了自我，

sunlight undimmed by dark panes,

阳光并未因为黑色窗框而变得暗淡，

the heat on my arms the earth’s breath.

我胳膊上感到的温热是大地的呼吸。

The wind tongues me to my feet

微风从头到脚舔舐我

like a doe licking clean her newborn fawn.

就像一只母鹿在清洁新生的小鹿。

At my back, days measured by vital signs,

在我背后，日子被生命迹象所计量，

my mouth opened and arm extended,

我的嘴张着，我的胳膊摊开，

the nighttime cries of a man withered

有一个得癌症的男人已经萎缩成一个孩子

child-size by cancer, and the bells

夜夜我都听见他的哀嚎，

of emptied IVs tolling through hallways.

以及走廊里提醒挂瓶已空的铃声。

Before me, life—mysterious, ordinary—

在我面前，生命——神秘的，庸常的——

holding off pain with its muscular wings.

用它壮健的双翼收敛着我的疼痛。

As I step to the curb, an orange moth

当我走上马路牙子，一只橘色的蛾子

dives into the basket of roses

俯冲进曾经摆在我病房里的

that lately stood on my sickroom table,

玫瑰花篮，

and the petals yield to its persistent

那些花瓣在它的不停劝诱下终于松动，

nudge, opening manifold and golden.

繁复的金色在其中展开。