当我想起这颗洋葱

When I think how far the onion has traveled

远道⽽来，只为今⽇落⼊我的炖锅

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

我⼏乎要跪下、礼赞

all small forgotten miracles,

所有被遗忘的微⼩奇迹，

crackly paper peeling on the drainboard,

脆纸般的⽪剥落在沥⽔板，

pearly layers in smooth agreement,

珍珠般的层瓣温顺拥合，

the way knife enters onion

⼑刃切⼊洋葱的瞬间

and onion falls apart on the chopping block,

洋葱在砧板上坦然绽开，

a history revealed.

⼀部历史就此揭幕。

And I would never scold the onion

⽽我绝不会责怪洋葱

for causing tears.

惹⼈流泪。

It is right that tears fall

泪⽔本该为这样微⼩

for something small and forgotten.

⽽被遗忘的事物垂落。

How at meal, we sit to eat,

餐桌前，我们坐下⽤餐，

commenting on texture of meat or herbal aroma

谈论⾁的质地或⾹草的⽓味，

but never on the translucence of onion,

却从不提起洋葱朦胧的剔透，

now limp, now divided,

此刻已柔软，已分离，

or its traditionally honorable career:

也不提它那传统⽽光荣的历程：

For the sake of others,

为了成全他物，

disappear.

悄然退隐。