是因为时辰已晚

is it because the hour is late

鸽子的鸣叫才如此清新吗，

the dove sounds new, no longer asking

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

不再打听

shoes of its mother?

通向父亲住所的路途，

不再向母亲乞求鞋子？

or is it because i can't tell

departure from arrival, the host from the guest,

或者还是因为我无法区分

the one who waits expectant at the window

启程与抵达，主与客，

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

分不清窗前满怀期待的等候者

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

与即便此刻还在踏着露水的人？

we crossed together from the sea itself,

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

我区分不了

lost between a country and a country.

父亲口中我们一起越过的大海

与大海本身，

everywhere is home to the rain.

the hours themselves, where do they hide?

分不清正午的玫瑰与坐在

the fruit of listening, what's that?

台阶上哭泣的母亲，她已遗失

are the days the offspring of distracted hands?

在国与国之间的转换中。

does waiting that grows out of waiting grow lighter?

雨之所至便是故乡。

what does my death weigh?

那时辰自身，能藏在哪里？

what's earlier, thirst or shade?

倾听有何成果，那是什么？

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

日子，是失措之手的子嗣？

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

从等待中生出的等待

or is it because i'm dying?

是否会变轻？我的死多重？

when will i be born?

渴与影子，在先的什么？

光都晚到，是早到的钟声的回响？

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

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

是否因为我疲倦所以不知？

what if a word unlocks room after room

或者因为我正在死去？

the days wait inside?

我会在何时出生？是落果里

一朵彻底清醒的花吗？

still, night amasses a foreground current to my window.

还是一个男人在等待

listen.

一个沉睡在一扇门后的女人？

whose footsteps are those hurrying toward beginning?

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？