I listen to the moon but it doesn’t say much about my life.

我聆听月亮，可是关于我的生活，它并没有说太多。

Quiet night is for my cockatoo. He keeps chattering

宁静的夜晚是为我的鹦鹉准备的，它不停地说话

until my neighbor comes over to complain. Then I read

直到我的邻居走过来抱怨。然后我读到一份

a local newspaper: no murder, no robbery, one grandmother

本地报纸：没有谋杀，没有抢劫，有一位祖母

fell down the stairs and broke her hip. I lick my inky fingers

从楼梯上跌落就摔断了髋骨。我舔了舔沾了墨的手指

and order my imaginary chauffeur to get ready—I’ll visit her

并让我那幻想中的司机准备好——我要去拜访她

and comfort her. I’d say, I read about you, I’m terribly sorry,

宽慰她。我会说，我读到你的事情，我深感抱歉，

this is my cockatoo, he’s twelve and loves carrots.

这是我的凤头鹦鹉，它十二岁了爱吃胡萝卜。

We’d share her hospital dinner and be happy.

我们会分享她的病号餐，并且感到快乐。

Other sick people gather around us, admiring my cockatoo,

其他的病人就围过来，欣赏着我的鹦鹉

who looks proud in his cage, unfurling his light-pink wings

它在笼子里看起来很骄傲，它展开浅粉色的翅膀

like stage curtains, and I’m his assistant. Grandma,

展开，像是舞台的帷幕，而我是它的助手。祖母，

worried that I’ve become silent, tells me how tired I look.

担心我已经变得沉默，她告诉我，我看起来那么疲惫。

“I had a series of nightmares,” I say, “my boss returned

“我做了一连串噩梦，” 我说，“ 我的老板

from the grave and fired me, bats attacked me like slow bullets

从坟墓里回来了，又辞退了我，蝙蝠们袭击我，像慢放的子弹

but bigger, I was bleeding.” She says: “When I’m alone,

但是更巨大些，而我在流血。” 她说：“ 我一个人的时候，

I paint eyes on a pear and whisper, I’m watching over you.

就给梨子画上眼睛，然后低语，我在守护着你。

That makes me stronger.” Back home, my body thin and healthy,

这让我更坚强。” 回到家中，我的身体清瘦而健康，

cooling my feet on a crystal ball like a psychic out of business,

把脚放在水晶球上让它冷下来，像一个失业的占卜师，

I look out the window: I don’t know which leaves will fall first or why.

我看向窗外：我不知道哪片叶子会先落下，为何会落下。

There aren’t many trees left. Not much is left of this little town.

外面没剩下几棵树了，没剩下什么了，在这个小镇上。