It is September, and a cool breeze

九月，一陣涼風

from somewhere ahead is turning the blades;

從前方吹來，撥動了扇葉；

night, and the slow flash of the fan

夜晚，風扇在我們與黑暗之間

the last light between us and the darkness.

慢慢旋動出最後的光。

Dust has begun to collect on the blades,

早有灰塵蓄積在葉片上，

haymaker’s dust from distant fields,

灰塵，來自遠方田間的乾草垛，

dust riding to town on the night-black wings

騎乘烏鴉的翅膀進城，那翅膀

of the crows, a thin frost of dust

黑如暗夜，灰塵在扇葉上

which clings to the earth as it spins.

結一層薄霜，恰如我們攀援在

The fan has brought us through,

旋轉的地球上。

its shiny blades like the screw of a ship

風扇讓我們熬過來，

that has pushed its way through summer—

它發亮的葉片彷彿船尾螺旋槳

cut flowers awash in its wake,

吃力地推過夏日——

the stagnant Sargasso Sea of July

碎花瓣於尾浪中翻飛，

far behind us. For the moment, we rest,

七月死寂的馬尾藻海

we lie in the dark hull of the house,

遠在我們身後。現在，我們休息，

we rock in the troughs off the shore

躺在這漆黑房子的船體中，

of October, the engine cooling,

隨波谷輕晃，十月的海岸

the fan blades so lazily turning, but burning.

在目，引擎在降溫，

扇葉懶洋洋地轉著，但轉著。