All day all over the city every person

一整天，整座城市里，每个人

Wanders a different city, sealed intact

都徘徊于一座不同的城市，密不透气，

And haunted as the abandoned subway stations

像城市地下的那些废弃地铁站一样

Under the city. Where is my alley doorway?

闹鬼。哪儿是我面向胡同的门廊？

Stone gable, brick escarpment, cliffs of crystal.

石头山墙，砖头悬崖，水晶绝壁。

Where is my terraced street above the harbor,

我层叠的街道在哪儿，在海港上方，

Café and hidden workshop, house of love?

在咖啡馆及秘密工坊、爱情小屋之上？

Webbed vault, tiled blackness. Where is my park, the path

布网的拱顶，铺砖的黑色。我的公园在哪，

Through conifers, my iron bench, a shiver

那穿过针叶树的小径，我的铁长凳，

Of ivy and margin birch above the traffic?

常春藤和白桦在车水马龙之上的一颤？

A voice. There is a mountain and a wood

一个声音。有一人，害了相思病，写道：

Between us —one wrote, lovesick— Where the late

我们之间隔着一座山和一片树林，已故的

Hunter and the bird haveseen us. Aimless at dusk,

猎人和那只鸟已经看到我们。心，无目的地

Heart muttering like any derelict,

在黄昏中，喃喃自语，像任何一个被弃者，

Or working all morning, violent with will,

或者带着狂烈的意志，工作整个上午，

Where is my garland of lights? My silver rail?

我的灯盏花环在哪里？我的银栏杆呢？