不，无人知晓你，一直是那样，

Not, not to be known, always,

我的伤口也不知晓。

not always to be known by my wounds,

我埋葬了忧郁的幼虫

I buried melancholy’s larvae

跟随你。像尘埃

and followed you. Gathered

我收集我自己

myself like dusk

靠近你乳头的黑郁金香。（郁金香，郁金香）。

to the black tulips of your nipples. (Tulips, tulips).

七天以来我们一直锁着门，

For seven days we locked the door,

我们用鸟儿的血擦洗房间。

we scoured the room with bird’s blood.

过了一会儿

And for a little while

你喉咙的玫瑰

in the hollow where your throat rose

升起在你辉煌的锁骨间（玫瑰，玫瑰），

from between your splendid clavicles (rose, rose),

音乐是我们唯一的竞争对手，

our only rival was music,

骨白色的钢琴。

the piano of bone-whiteness. 

光没有减弱，

Nor did the light subside,

却在缓慢加深。

But deepeningly contracted.

表情生硬。

The rawness of the looking.

在颤抖。

The quiver.