Falling is an art. No one, not even the preacher,

下落是一门艺术。没有人，

can tell you the way to your knees in the night.

即便是牧师，也无法告诉你

在夜晚如何跪倒。

Watch the rain. It practices its landing

on everything, drumming the roof, the car,

看雨吧。它不断练习

落在一切东西上，敲打屋顶、车身，

the pond. Watch the leaves, each a teacher

of twirl, the dance from branch to grass.

还有池塘。看树叶吧，每一片都是老师，

教你旋转，从枝头舞到草地。

From window to pavement, the man was laughing

all the way down. However he landed, it was

从窗户到人行道，那人一路笑着落下去。

无论他如何着地，这并未

hardly over. Now he’s called wise.

Walking is falling forward. Running

就此结束。如今他被称为智者。

行走就是向前落下。奔跑

is falling faster. Watch the dark. It falls

so slowly while the sun yanks the rug

就是落得更快。看黑暗吧；它缓缓落下，

而太阳却猛然将地毯从你脚下拉走。

out from under you. At night some fall over

a book into a story. Some fall

夜晚有人被书本绊倒，落进故事里。有人

为彼此而坠落。我们一路坠落

for each other. We have fallen all the way

here. We could do it in our sleep. And we do. We do.

来到这里。我们在睡觉时也可以做到它。

而我们确实做了，我们做到了