你面对着那张纸，就像家庭大趴体之后，

Your paperwork in, it’s like the morning after

手抖着统计各种破坏，

a party, the shaken survey of damage,

在曾经充满笑声而现在只有空瓶子的那个地方。

a waste of bottles where there was laughter.

它看起来比你可以收拾的大出好多：

It all seems so much more than you can manage:

骂骂咧咧的杯子和翘翘的烟屁股，

the accusing cups and stubbed-out cigarettes,

阳光猛打窗户，还有突突跳的脑血管。

the sun assaulting the window, your throbbing head.

这还不是你需要面对的所有懊悔

It’s not enough to face your own regrets

（你说那些破坏的东西很快就会回来）

(though they’re coming back fast, the things you said)

因为有人把豆子在桌上泼了一路，

because someone’s trailed bean dip across the table,

还有人把辣番茄酱杂拌菜泼在地毯上，旁边是他的鞋。

someone’s ground salsa in the rug with his shoe.

所以你开始清洁，能弄干净多少是多少，

So you start to clean, as much as you are able,

同时在想那些时光已经飞离你有多远，

and think how far those hours have fled from you,

在你宿醉之前，在你的舌头发苦之前，

before the hangover and your sour tongue,

在你感觉到可爱，无限，和年轻的时候。

when you felt lovely, and infinite, and young.