In the burned house I am eating breakfast.

在着火的房子里我吃早餐。

You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,

你理解：并没有真的房子，并没有真的早餐，

yet here I am.

但我真的在这里。

The spoon which was melted scrapes against

熔化的勺子刮着

the bowl which was melted also.

熔化的碗。

No one else is around.

旁边一个人都没有。

Where have they gone to, brother and sister,

母亲和父亲，

mother and father? Off along the shore,

他们去哪儿了？也许

perhaps. Their clothes are still on the hangers,

他们去了海边。他们的衣服还挂在衣架上，

their dishes piled beside the sink,

他们的碗碟堆在水槽旁边

which is beside the woodstove

水槽旁边是柴炉

with its grate and sooty kettle,

熏黑的水壶放在炉架上，

every detail clear,

每个细节清晰可见、

tin cup and rippled mirror.

锡杯和起皱的镜子。

The day is bright and songless,

天色明亮无人唱歌、

the lake is blue, the forest watchful.

湖水湛蓝，森林守望。

In the east a bank of cloud

东边的云层

rises up silently like dark bread.

像黑色的面包一样静静地升起。

I can see the swirls in the oilcloth,

我能看到油布上的漩涡、

I can see the flaws in the glass,

我能看到玻璃上的瑕疵、

those flares where the sun hits them.

看见上面阳光击打的耀斑。

I can't see my own arms and legs

我看不见自己的手脚

or know if this is a trap or blessing,

也不知道这是陷阱还是祝福、

finding myself back here, where everything

发现自己回到了这里，这间房屋的一切

in this house has long been over,

早已结束，

kettle and mirror, spoon and bowl,

水壶和镜子，勺子和碗

including my own body,

包括我自己的身体

including the body I had then,

我当时的身体

including the body I have now

我现在的身体

as I sit at this morning table, alone and happy,

当我坐在这张清晨的餐桌前，孤独而幸福、

bare child's feet on the scorched floorboards

孩子赤裸的脚踩在烧焦的地板上

(I can almost see)

(我几乎可以看到）

in my burning clothes, the thin green shorts

在我燃烧的衣服里，那薄薄的绿色短裤

and grubby yellow T-shirt

和邋遢的黄色T恤

holding my cindery, non-existent,

拥着我肉体的燃烧的灰烬，不存在的，

radiant flesh. Incandescent.

光芒四射的肉体。炽热。