Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.

头顶，星群。脚下，星座。

Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies.

五十亿英里之远，星系死去

like a snowflake falling on water. Below us

像雪落于水。我们下面，

some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,

某个农场主，感到那遥远的死亡之寒

snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn

啪地一声，他打开院里的灯

back into the little system of his care.

将棚屋和谷仓纳入自己所及

All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,

城市彻夜恍如明灭的新星

tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.

用炜煌的街区同他的孤灯拔河