她给我寄来蓝松鸦，霜，

She sends me news of blue jays, frost,

星星，以及此刻正升起在贫瘠山巅的

Of stars and now the harvest moon

秋月的消息。

That rides above the stricken hills.

她轻描淡写地提及寒冷，痛苦，

Lightly, she speaks of cold, of pain,

并罗列出已经失去的事物。

And lists what is already lost.

读到这里，我的生活显得艰难而缓慢，

Here where my life seems hard and slow,

我读到生机勃勃的瓜

I read of glowing melons piled

堆在门边，篮子里

Beside the door, and baskets filled

装满茴香，迷迭香和莳萝，

With fennel, rosemary and dill,

而所有无法被采集，或隐藏在叶子中的

While all she could not gather in

那些，她只能任其变黑并落下。

Or hid in leaves, grow black and falls.

读到这里，我的生活显得艰难而陌生，

Here where my life seems hard and strange,

我读到她的兴奋，每当

I read her wild excitement when

星星升起，霜降下，蓝松鸦唱起歌。

Stars climb, frost comes, and blue jays sing.

荒芜的岁月

The broken year will make no change

没有改变她聪明而热情的心；

Upon her wise and whirling heart; -

她知道人们总是规划

She knows how people always plan

自己的生活，却难以如愿。

To live their lives, and never do.

如果她哭泣，她不会告诉我。

She will not tell me if she cries.

我抚摸着她的名字；

I touch the crosses by her name;

我叠好信，站起来，

I fold the pages as I rise,

倾倒信封，从里面飘出了

And tip the envelope, from which

玻璃苣，忍冬，芸香的碎片。

Drift scraps of borage, woodbine, rue.