The gates, the gardens, the windows, the sky, the ledge of  bricks, the fallen leaves, the porch where I kissed you long ago, the name you unraveled inside my head, the piece of a body stuck to the wall, the ticking clock that caught in your teeth, I read a book, I take a walk, I swallow the sky of here and now, I shake my pockets to hear my coins, I move the table from here to there, I struggle to struggle with honor and truth, I remember the hair that stuck to your lips, I taste your lips with the hair on my tongue, I whistle alone when the light is dim, the stove, the sofa, the creaky door, the bed, the blanket, the common bonds, the morning rays, the salty skin, the story I tell of the story we made, September, October, November…

大门，花园，窗户，天空，砖砌的窗沿，落叶，那座我很久以前吻过你的门廊，你在我脑海中解开的名字，墙上残留的一块身体，卡在你牙齿间的嘀嗒钟声，我读一本书，我散步，我吞下此时此刻的天空，我抖抖口袋听硬币叮咚，我把桌子从这里挪到那里，我挣扎着想要让这挣扎包含尊严和真理，我记得那粘在你唇上的发丝，我用粘着发丝的舌头尝着你的唇，当光线昏暗时，我独自吹着口哨，灶台，沙发，吱呀作响的门，床，毛毯，共同的牵连，清晨的光线，带咸味的皮肤，我讲述着关于我们一同编织故事的故事，九月，十月，十一月……