When I think how far the onion has traveled

当我想起这颗洋葱

just to enter my stew today, I could kneel and praise

远道⽽来，只为今⽇落⼊我的炖锅

all small forgotten miracles,

我⼏乎要跪下、礼赞

crackly paper peeling on the drainboard,

所有被遗忘的微⼩奇迹，

pearly layers in smooth agreement,

脆纸般的⽪剥落在沥⽔板，

the way knife enters onion

珍珠般的层瓣温顺拥合，

and onion falls apart on the chopping block,

⼑刃切⼊洋葱的瞬间

a history revealed.

洋葱在砧板上坦然绽开，

⼀部历史就此揭幕。

And I would never scold the onion

for causing tears.

⽽我绝不会责怪洋葱

It is right that tears fall

惹⼈流泪。

for something small and forgotten.

泪⽔本该为这样微⼩

How at meal, we sit to eat,

⽽被遗忘的事物垂落。

commenting on texture of meat or herbal aroma

餐桌前，我们坐下⽤餐，

but never on the translucence of onion,

谈论⾁的质地或⾹草的⽓味，

now limp, now divided,

却从不提起洋葱朦胧的剔透，

or its traditionally honorable career:

此刻已柔软，已分离，

For the sake of others,

也不提它那传统⽽光荣的历程：

disappear.

为了成全他物，

悄然退隐。