There was a thought

曾经有一个想法

who thought

想着

—as some thoughts like to do—

—就像其他想法那样—

he would be free

他会自由地

to roam on milky streets.

在乳白色的街道闲逛。

but he flew so fast,

但是他跑得飞快

he crashed into the lamp near the factory,

他撞到了靠近工厂的油灯，

he landed on your upturned collar,

他着陆于你翻起的衣领，

thinking

想着

—now a habit already, it seems—

—看起来，现在已经是一种习惯—

that this collar, turned up thus,

这个衣领，因而变成

is a wall to fortress his demise.

一堵垒起他的挫败的墙。

“i love you”, he whispered,

“我爱你，”他低声说，

or maybe he said, “i am home.”

又或者他说，“我在家。”

he almost dropped when you

当你被一块黑煤砖绊倒

tripped over a soot black brick.

他差点坠落

“hold on to me,” he begged.

“抓紧我，”他央求。

when you sneezed your winter cold,

你在冬天的严寒里打喷嚏，

he whispered to you, “let’s go

他低声说，“走吧

to the early bakery, just me and you,”

一起去清晨的面包店，就我和你”，

to warmth, comfort, and more.

暖和，舒服，以及更多。

you carelessly turned down

你毫不在乎地翻下

your collar,

你的衣领，

and the thought: he disappeared,

和那个想法：他消失了，

unthought-of, I fear!

想都没想，我害怕！