One day someone will fold our blankets

有一天有人会折好我们的被子

and send them to the cleaners

把它们送到洗衣房

to scrub the last grain of salt from them,

把上面最后一粒盐搓掉，

will open our letters and sort them out by date

会打开我们的信件然后按日期分好

instead of by how often they’ve been read.

而不是按照它们被阅读的频率。

One day someone will rearrange the room’s furniture

有一天会有人重新摆放房间里的家具

like chessmen at the start of a new game,

就像棋手重新开始棋局，

will open the old shoebox

会打开旧的鞋盒子

where we hoard pyjama-buttons,

里面放着我们小心藏好的睡衣钮扣

not-quite-dead batteries and hunger.

还勉强能用的电池和饥饿。

One day the ache will return to our backs

有一天疼痛会重临我们的脊背

from the weight of hotel room keys

它来自酒店房门的钥匙

and the receptionist’s suspicion

和传递电视遥控器时

前台职员的疑虑。

Others’ pity will set out after us

like the moon after some wandering child.

别人的怜悯将在我们身后开始

就像月光追赶着游荡的孩童。