The elk discards his antlers every spring.

麋鹿每年春天都会丢弃鹿角。

They rebud, they grow, they are growing

它们重新萌发，生长，每天长出

an inch a day to form a rococo rack

一寸，在我们说着话的时候，

with a five-foot spread even as we speak:

长成一个五英尺宽的洛可可式鹿角架：

cartilage at first, covered with velvet;

起初是软骨，覆盖着茸毛；

bendable, tender gristle, yet

可弯曲，柔嫩的筋膜，然而

destined to ossify, the velvet sloughed off,

注定要骨化变硬，嫩皮脱落，

hanging in tatters from alders and scrub growth.

破烂似的挂在赤杨和灌木丛中。

No matter how hardened it seems there was pain.

现在看起来再坚硬，都曾很痛。

Blood on the snow from rubbing, rubbing, rubbing.

雪地上的血迹，来自摩擦、摩擦、摩擦。

What a heavy candelabrum to be borne

多么重的枝型烛台啊，每年都要

forth, each year more elaborately turned:

抬出来，每一年都变得更精致：

the special issues, the prizes in her name.

专刊专号，以她命名的奖项。

Above the mantle the late elk’s antlers gleam.

壁炉上方，已故麋鹿的角闪闪发光。