Poetry is a kind of money

诗歌是一种货币

whose value depends upon reserves.

它的价值取决于储量。

It’s not the paper it’s written on

不是写在纸上的东西

or its self-announced denomination,

或它自己标示的面额，

but the bullion, sweated from the earth

而是金块——从大地的汗水中炼出

and hidden, which preserves its worth.

却被隐藏——保持了它的价值。

Nobody knows how this works,

无人知晓这是如何运作，

and how can it? Why does something

为何它能运作？为什么有些东西

stacked in some secret bank or cabinet,

堆放在某个银行密室或保险柜，

some miser’s trove, far back, lambent,

或某个守财奴的宝库，远离人世，闪闪发光

and gloated over by its golem, make us

并被它的石偶津津有味地炫耀，却让我们

so solemnly convinced of the transaction

如此认真地相信交易的存在，

when Mandelstam says love, even

在曼德尔施塔姆说黄金（爱）时，即使

in translation?

那只是翻译？