The quivering wings of the winter ant

冬天的蚂蚁颤动的翅膀

wait for lean winter to end.

期待着贫瘠的冬季结束。

I love you in slow, dim-witted ways,

我以迟钝的方式爱你，

hardly speaking, one or two words only.

几乎无语，只言片语而已。

What caused us each to live hidden?

是什么让我们各自隐秘地生活？

A wound, the wind, a word, a parent.

伤口，风，话语或母体。

Sometimes we wait in a helpless way,

有时我们无助地等待

awkwardly, not whole and not healed.

多么笨拙，残缺而无法愈合。

When we hid the wound, we fell back

当我们把伤口掩饰，我们从人类退化

from a human to a shelled life.

成为一种带壳的生命。

Now we feel the ant’s hard chest,

此时我们感到了蚂蚁坚硬的胸膛，

the carapace, the silent tongue.

甲壳，沉默的舌头。

This must be the way of the ant,

这一定是蚂蚁的方式

the winter ant, the way of those

冬天的蚂蚁的方式，那些受伤却仍想

who are wounded and want to live:

活下去的生命的方式：

to breathe, to sense another, and to wait.

呼吸，感知他人，等待。