Only one cell in the frozen hive of night

黑夜的蜂巢冰凍，只有一間

is lit, or so it seems:

亮著燈，至少在我們看來：

this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,

這家越南咖啡館，閃著油嗒嗒的光，

its odors whose shapes are like flowers.

迎面的氣味，形狀華美如花。

Laughter and talk, the tick of chopsticks.

有說有笑，筷子輕碰。

Beyond the glass, the wintry city

越過玻璃窗，嚴冬之城

creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.

吱嘎作響如一座古老的木橋。

A great wind rushes under all of us.

大風在我們身下奔湧。

The bigger the window, the more it trembles.

窗格越大，顫聲越響。