在异乡，

Away from home,

读流亡诗人——

I read the exiled poets—

奥维德，布莱希特。

Ovid, Brecht.

然后，夜，

Then set my books that night

我把书放到床脚，

near the foot of the bed.

整夜，假装它们是猫。

All night pretended they were the cat.

我，一次

Not once

也没弄醒它。

did I wake her.