Those people

那些整夜

curled all night on old straw mats,

蜷曲在舊草席上的人們

by what epiphany

憑藉什麼悟性

do they open their marshlike eyes.

睜開了兩隻泥沼一樣的眼睛。

The smell of sleep still crouches

睡的味兒還縮在屋角。

in the corner of the room.

靠哪個部件的力氣

What clockwork

他們直立起來

makes them straighten up,

准確無誤地

fetching food and water

拿到了食物和水。

so precisely.

需要多麼大的智慧

How much wisdom does it take

他們在昨天的褲子裏

to fish a string of keys

取出與他有關的一串鑰匙。

from yesterday’s trousers.

需要什麼樣的連貫力

What momentum

他們上路出門

gets each one on the road,

每一個交叉路口

not missing a single intersection.

都不能使他們迷失。

I dwell in the morning of reason,

我坐在理性的清晨。

looking past myself.

我看見在我以外

A river of people.

是人的河水。

Not one asks me for directions,

沒有一個人向我問路

though I never met wisdom

雖然我從沒遇到

much bigger than a thumbnail.

大過拇指甲的智慧。

Steel’s too soft

金屬的質地顯然太軟。

for what braces them,

是什麼念頭支撐了他們

striding into the dust of that wounding sun,

頭也不回地

their faces straight ahead.

走進太陽那傷人的灰塵。

Calamities and felicities

災害和幸運

hang by the thinnest threads.

都懸在那最細的線上。

The sun, like a gallbladder,

太陽，像膽囊

rises.

升起來了。