我已经很久没有写过你了。

I haven’t written you in a long time.

突然，一扇窗户眨眼打开。

A sudden window winks open.

天空有着我父亲

The sky has my father’s

饱经风霜的面容。我想念你，我想念

beaten face. I missed you. I missed how

你如何安慰我，正如你现在

you comforted me the way you

用那睁大的清澈的眼睛

comfort me now with your wide-eyed

安慰我，你缓慢而耐心地

lucidity, the languor of the patient

舒展开自己，奢侈地

unfurling of yourself, luxuriously

无视最新的背叛，

disregarding the latest betrayal

就像一个头条新闻醒目地

like a headline stark across the front

横在我脸上。但我不会

page of my face. But I will not

在这里写下它，在你

write about it here, along the margin

内心的边缘，尽管你钟情于

of your insides, although you are in love

这些不为人知的事实——我下巴上

with such unsung facts – the pearly whitehead

的珍珠白头，我脚上淡淡的气味

on my chin, that faint odour from my feet

沿着空气的梯子爬上前一行——

scaling the air’s ladder into the previous line –

为什么不呢？谁在乎别人

and why not? Who cares if someone else

是否相信这些事情

would never believe that such things

也可能是诗意的？

may not also be poetic?

但现在我只想谈谈你。

But now I want only to talk of you.

我已经用如此真实的和弦

How many like you have I already

创作了多少这样的你，

composed with such authentic chords

其中充满了真理，响亮而清晰。

of truth, loud and clear within them.

我心爱的露水情缘，

My beloved one-night-stand

在所有正确的时刻

who never stops coming

从未停止来爱我：

to love me at all the right times:

在无法忍受的悲伤之后

after unbearable grief

或在每一个罕见的

or after every rare moment

满足，甚至喜悦的时刻之后。

of contentment, even joy.

你从不说谎，除非我

You who never lie except when I

想让你说谎，哪怕只是为了增加一个遥远

want you to, if only to augment a distant

但更重要的真理。我爱你，

but more vital truth. I love you,

亲爱的诗。我爱你

dear poem. I love you

因为你将痛苦托在

because you hold pain up upon

你安静的手掌上，将它举起，

the quiet of your palm, raising it

以便我能在最好的光线下看到它。

so I might see it in the best possible light.