Mountain, mountain, mountain,

山，山，山，

marking time. Each

标记着时间。每一个

nameless, wall beyond wall, wavering

没有名字，墙外的墙，摇动着，

redefinition of

重新定义

horizon.

地平线。

And through the months. The arrivals

如此数月。傍晚抵达的城市

at dusk in towns one must leave at daybreak

破晓时就必须离去

—were they

——它们

taken to heart, to be seen

被留在心间了吗，反复地

always again,

重现？

or let go, those faces,

抑或只是掠过，那些脸孔，

a door half-open, moss

那半掩的门，

by matchlight on an inscribed stone?

还有石刻上被火柴照亮的苔痕？

And by day

而白天，

through the hours that

在嗡鸣着环绕我们的

rustle about one dryly,

枯涩时辰里，

tall grass of the savannah

热带草原上的高高青草

up to the eyes.

满溢眼底。

No alternative to the

独自一人的道路，

one-man path.

并无分岔可言。