The sun’s effulgence like light from a dark diamond.

陽光彷彿源自一顆幽暗的鑽石。

Clouds so low we breathe them.

雲彩極低，我們將之呼吸。

The brindled meadow.

印著花紋的草場。

Dapple of shadows, stipple and ripple

陰影斑駁，點彩和漣漪

of waters.

在水上。

The slow creeks. Bank full rivers.

溪流徐緩。盛滿河的岸。

The muddy flow and go of it all.

渾濁的流水它沖逝一切。

*

*

Is the sacred ever silent?

那神聖的是否也會沉默？

Or does it babble and hum and whistle.

是否也胡言亂語也低聲哼唱也吹響口哨。

Continually. Invisibly.

持續。無形。

The tongues of the leaves wagging.

樹葉如舌頭顫抖。

Wash of wind through the grass.

風在草間沖洗。

A young woman wearing it on a hot day as a long flowing dress

年輕的姑娘在熱天裏穿上它如同一條流動的長裙

made of something just this side of air.

以恰似空氣的材料製成。

*

*

What do I wish?

我有何所願？

Or wish for?

何所求？

At eighty and holding a short string

八十歲，手中一根短弦

strummed to a thread by cancer.

已被癌症拉奏得纖細。

Short fuse.

導火線變短。

An entirely different story? Or the same story?

故事全然不同？或本無不同？

How would I know?

我如何知曉？

It’s all so obvious in its secrecy.

一切都在自身的隱秘中顯而易見。

*

*

3:10.

3:10

The afternoon sunk to uncharacteristic stillness.

下午陷入平庸的死寂。

Below the burning bush, the silk of tent spiders melts away.

燃燒的灌木叢下，蜘蛛的銀帳篷隱去。

Is it better to be the teller of the tale? Or the subject of the story?

最好成為那講故事的人？還是故事的主角？

All narratives being false.

一切敘述都是虛構。

The darkness dancing away beneath our feet.

黑暗跳著舞在我們腳下消失。