Wrong solitude vinegars the soul,

错误的独处醋一般腐蚀灵魂，

right solitude oils it.

正确的独处油一般把它滑润。

How fragile we are, between the few good moments.

多脆弱啊我们，当身置那些稀少的美好时分。

Coming and going unfinished,

诸事未竟，

puzzled by fate,

命运弄人，

like the half-carved relief

像那只悬在那扇芬兰教堂门上

of a fallen donkey, above a church door in Finland.

只雕刻了一半的驴正挣扎着站起身。