I liked my little hole,

我喜欢我小小的窝，

Its window facing a brick wall.

窗户对着砖墙。

Next door there was a piano.

隔壁有一架钢琴。

A few evenings a month

一个月里有几个晚上

a crippled old man came to play

一个瘸腿的老人总来弹奏

“My Blue Heaven.”

“我的蓝色天堂”。

Mostly, though, it was quiet.

不过多半时候，它是安静的。

Each room with its spider in heavy overcoat

每个房间都有裹着厚外套的蜘蛛

Catching his fly with a web

用一张烟雾和白日梦织就的网

Of cigarette smoke and revery.

逮住它的飞虫。

So dark,

多么暗，

I could not see my face in the shaving mirror.

我看不清剃须镜里自己的脸。

At 5 A.M. the sound of bare feet upstairs.

凌晨五点楼上有赤脚走路的声音。

The “Gypsy” fortuneteller,

那个“吉普赛”算命人，

Whose storefront is on the corner,

铺面在街角的那个，

Going to pee after a night of love.

一夜欢爱后出去小便。

Once, too, the sound of a child sobbing.

也曾听到，孩子呜咽的声音。

So near it was, I thought

听起来如此之近，一刹那

For a moment, I was sobbing myself.

我以为，是我自己在抽泣。