The carpenter’s face as he chisels amid woodshavings,

木匠在刨花裏砍出他的臉而

the blacksmith stooped behind wheatstalks and scythes.

鐵匠在鐮刀和麥稈間彎腰藏著。

At her unsteady treadle, the white-haired woman

白髮老婦在破舊的織機上

weaves slender waistlines, scarlet blooms.

織出窈窕的腰身和花朵的大紅。

A single country poplar

在鄉間，一株白楊就是

just a rising thread of cooksmoke

一股升起的炊煙，為了讓

homecoming sheep see far off.

晚歸的羊群遠遠看見。

I write simple lines, beside

我寫著單純的詩句，沿著

perfectly straight acres, this row of wheat shoots

筆直的田畦，一溜剛播下的麥種

tugging my whole body green, a jolt

領著我渾身碧綠地閃出

of voltage, no wires.

感覺的無線電。