One day someone will fold our blankets

有一天有人会叠好我们的被子

and send them to the cleaners

把它们送到洗衣店

to scrub the last grain of salt from them,

搓洗掉被上的最后一些咸颗粒，

will open our letters and sort them out by date

也有人会打开我们的信封，然后按日期分类

instead of by how often they’ve been read.

而非按照我们阅读它们的次数。

One day someone will rearrange the room’s furniture

有一天有人会重新摆置家里的家具

like chessmen at the start of a new game,

如棋手们在新一局游戏前摆好棋子，

will open the old shoebox

也有人会打开旧鞋盒

where we hoard pyjama-buttons,

里面有我们储藏的睡衣扣

not-quite-dead batteries and hunger.

还未消耗殆尽的电池和饥饿。

One day the ache will return to our backs

有一天我们的背痛会再次复发

from the weight of hotel room keys

从来自旅店房门的钥匙

and the receptionist’s suspicion

和前台职员移交电视遥控器时的

猜疑。

Others’ pity will set out after us

like the moon after some wandering child.

他人的怜悯将从我们的身后开始

就像月亮在一些流浪儿童的背后那样。