原谅我，爱人。我正忙着预言

Excuse me, lover. I’m busy foretelling

和抗议你的结局。当我狩猎，

and protesting your end. Whether I hunt,

采集，交换，或者买卖，我担心着秩序：

gather, barter, or sell, what I worry over

橡树，海岸线，

is the order: live oaks, shorelines,

大眼睛和易燃的

wide-eyed and flammable

生物，我爱着它们。在白天，我不允许

creature I adore. By day, I admit

任何阴影的帮助：乌鸦，请不要运用

no shadow as backup: crow, please keep

你高超的法医技术。我拿着纸板做的吉他，

your clever forensics. What would I do

行星的地图和一箱砖瓦

with a cardboard guitar, a map of the planets,

孤独，无措。

and a box of building blocks,

我从来不能忘记

alone? Another bereavement

另一种丧亲之痛：将一个希望

I haven’t unlearned: to bury one hope

埋葬在另一个希望里面，而我，

inside another, and I, having made a home

在人界和鬼界之间的地带（我拥有一个无暇但

of limbo (I keep a black hole more spotless

不舒适的黑洞），曾经可以随心所欲

than cozy), once traveled through time

隐形匿迹地穿越时空。而现在，已经不那么自由。我的爱人

at will, invisible. Now, not so free. My beloved

正在变得越来越重，越来越硬，朝向天堂。

grows heavier, hardier, heavenward.

有某种来自未来的悲伤，正在炙烤着我。

Certain grief pre-scorches me.