The days are so vivid, so bright

白天多麼生動，多麼明亮，

that even the slim, sparse palms

即便那細長稀疏的棕櫚樹

are covered in the white dust of neglect.

也罩上一層白色遺忘之塵。

Serpents in the vineyards slither softly,

蛇在葡萄園裏靜靜滑行，

but the evening sea grows dark and,

黃昏時分，大海逐漸變暗，

suspended overhead like punctuation

停懸於頭頂的海鷗

in the highest script, the seagulls barely stir.

像最高處文本中的標點，不輕易躁動。

A drop of wine’s inscribed upon your lips.

一滴葡萄酒刻在你的唇上。

The limestone hills slowly melt

石灰岩的山坡慢慢融入

on the horizon and a star appears.

地平線，一顆星星出現。

At night on the square an orchestra of sailors

深夜的廣場，一支水手管弦樂隊

dressed in spotless white

白衣服一塵不染

plays a little waltz by Shostakovich; small children

演奏一曲肖斯塔科維奇的小華爾茲；

cry as if they’d guessed

小孩子在哭，彷彿早已洞悉

what the merry music’s really saying.

那歡樂的音樂的真諦。

We’ve been locked in the world’s box,

我們被鎖進世界的盒子，

love sets us free, time kills us.

愛讓我們解脫，時間教我們死亡。