I remember the cities I have never seen

我记得严格说来从没去过的

exactly. Silver-veined Venice, Leningrad

城市。银色血脉的威尼斯，有着

with its toffee-twisted minarets. Paris. Soon

太妃糖卷式宣礼塔的列宁格勒。巴黎。

the Impressionists will be making sunshine out of shade.

很快印象主义者会从阴影抽出阳光。

Oh! and the uncoiling cobra alleys of Hyderabad.

哦！还有海得拉巴眼镜蛇般伸展的小巷。

To have loved one horizon is insularity;

仅爱一道地平线，是岛国狭隘；

it blindfolds vision, it narrows experience.

它会蒙蔽视觉，局限经验。

The spirit is willing, but the mind is dirty.

精神积极向上，头脑却是肮脏的。

The flesh wastes itself under crumb-sprinkled linens,

肉体在缀满皮屑的床单下消耗自身，

widening the Weltanschauung with magazines.

靠杂志来扩展世界观。

A world's outside the door, but how upsetting

门外是整个世界，但多么令人沮丧

to stand by your bags on a cold step as dawn

站在冷冷的台阶上，身边是你的箱子，

roses the brickwork and before you start regretting,

当曙光染红砖墙，在悔恨涌来之前

your taxi's coming with one beep of its horn,

滴了一声喇叭的出租车滑到路边，

sidling to the curb like a hearse—so you get in.

如一辆灵车——就这样，你钻了进去。