is it because the hour is late

是因为时辰已晚

the dove sounds new, no longer asking

鸽子的鸣叫才如此清新吗，

a path to its father's house, no longer begging

shoes of its mother?

不再打听

通向父亲住所的路途，

or is it because i can't tell

不再向母亲乞求鞋子？

departure from arrival, the host from the guest,

the one who waits expectant at the window

或者还是因为我无法区分

from the one who, even now, tramples the dew?

启程与抵达，主与客，

i can't tell what my father said about the sea

分不清窗前满怀期待的等候者

we crossed together from the sea itself,

与即便此刻还在踏着露水的人？

or the rose's noon from my mother crying on the stairs,

lost between a country and a country.

我区分不了

父亲口中我们一起越过的大海

everywhere is home to the rain.

与大海本身，

the hours themselves, where do they hide?

the fruit of listening, what's that?

分不清正午的玫瑰与坐在

are the days the offspring of distracted hands?

台阶上哭泣的母亲，她已遗失

在国与国之间的转换中。

does waiting that grows out of waiting grow lighter?

what does my death weigh?

雨之所至便是故乡。

what's earlier, thirst or shade?

那时辰自身，能藏在哪里？

is all light late, the echo to some prior bell?

倾听有何成果，那是什么？

is it because i'm tired that i don't know?

日子，是失措之手的子嗣？

or is it because i'm dying?

从等待中生出的等待

when will i be born?

是否会变轻？我的死多重？

渴与影子，在先的什么？

am i the flower, wide awake inside the falling fruit?

光都晚到，是早到的钟声的回响？

or a man waiting for a woman asleep behind a door?

what if a word unlocks room after room

是否因为我疲倦所以不知？

the days wait inside?

或者因为我正在死去？

我会在何时出生？是落果里

still, night amasses a foreground current to my window.

一朵彻底清醒的花吗？

listen.

还是一个男人在等待

whose footsteps are those hurrying toward beginning?

一个沉睡在一扇门后的女人？

如果一个词能够打开

一间又一间房间里的

日子，会怎样？可是

夜晚依然将前景拉到

窗前，如电流涌集。

听。那些是谁的脚步

正在匆匆赶往开始？