The ones who arrive with a bag of clothes, four

那些到来的人，带着一袋衣服，四个

tired lemons, half a story from her sister’s trip to

疲惫的柠檬，还有她姐姐去巴拉圭

Paraguay. The ones who keep secrets and whose

旅行的半截故事。那些守着秘密的人，她们的

secrets we keep in potted plants, in every ocean we’ve

秘密，我们藏在花盆里，藏在我们所认识的

ever known. The ones who know our husbands, their

每一片海洋中。那些了解我们丈夫的人，了解他们

little pleasures. Our lovers and our scars. The ones

微小的欢愉。了解我们的情人，我们的伤痕。那些

who stay, hope like a moth. Who stare into the gaping

留下来的人，像飞蛾怀着希望。她们直视那张开的

tomb and are not afraid of its unveiling. The ones who

坟墓，而不惧怕它的揭示。那些

will be there, even then (even then), to walk us home.

甚至到了那时（甚至到了那时），仍会在那里，

陪我们走回家的人。