I've found a system of safe harbors, to ward off

我找到了一套避风港的体系，用以抵御

terror, Sontag said. Oh, this autumn's losses

恐惧，桑塔格说。噢，这个秋天的种种失去

and its small mercies: your honey-colored hair,

与它微小的恩慈：你蜜糖般的发丝，

hands clutching the cocktail shaker, delicate

紧握着调酒壶的双手，纤细的

fingers assembling three beans above the foam.

手指在泡沫上点缀三颗豆子。

For luck, you tell me. If terror is what we think—

为了好运，你对我说。如果恐惧正如我们所想——

outliving the animals we love, or being abandoned

比我们深爱的动物活得更长久，或是被抛弃到

to nature, or the way my building has no walls,

大自然中，抑或是我的大楼没有墙壁，

a loose lock—what's a safe harbor but our stroll

门锁松动——那除了我们

down the street's center, or lying on a single pillow,

在街道中央的漫步，或是同枕共眠，

bodies curled close like parentheses, exchanging

身体如括号般蜷缩相拥，交换着

quiet breaths? Maybe more the moon swinging

寂静的呼吸，还有什么可以称得上"避风港"？

in the sky's hammock—here it hangs above

也许更像是月亮，在天空的吊床里摇曳——

the houses, here we point to it from your car,

在此处悬于万家的屋顶，在此处我们在你的车里指向它，

here it shines on my walk home, and I think

在此处它照耀我走回家的路，而我想起

of you: lips purpled with red wine, honey,

了你：被红酒染紫的双唇，蜜糖，

the warmth of your palm on my spine.

你手掌覆在我脊背上的温度。