The woman is perfected.

这个女人已臻于完美。

Her dead

她死去的

Body wears the smile of accomplishment,

身体带着成就的微笑，

The illusion of a Greek necessity

希腊命运女神的幻像

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,

流动于她宽外袍的涡卷里，

Her bare

她赤裸的

Feet seem to be saying:

双脚似乎在说：

We have come so far, it is over.

我们已走了老远，该停下来了。

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,

每一个死去的孩子盘卷着，一条白色的毒蛇，

One at each little

在每一个小小的

Pitcher of milk, now empty.

如今已空了的奶罐子。

She has folded

她已将

Them back into her body as petals

他们卷回自己的体内像玫瑰

Of a rose close when the garden

的花瓣关闭当花园

Stiffens and odors bleed

凝结而芳香自

From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.

夜华甜美、深沈的喉间流出。

The moon has nothing to be sad about,

月亮没有什么值得哀伤，

Staring from her hood of bone.

自她尸骨的头巾凝视。

She is used to this sort of thing.

她习于这类事情。

Her blacks crackle and drag.

她的黑衣拖曳且沙沙作响。