我聽過痛苦的聲音，

I heard the cry of pain,

從那一刻我緩慢病變。

then changed slowly, pathologically,

那是沉鬱的哀求，

that muffled plea

不帶抱怨，也沒有

neither complaint nor fantasy,

幻想。痛苦就是直接。

the pain direct, immediate,

而痛苦是沒有力量進入，

yet powerless to enter—

是軟弱，不敢頑固並沉默。

weak, sporadic, mute.

我不敢把手探入它的核心，

I dared not plunge my hand deep

不敢挖出血淋淋的鬼。

to grasp the bloody ghost.

眼望著謊言的清潔。

My eyes fixed helpless on pure lies.

當時我哀哀地哭泣，

I turned my face to mourn,

轉過臉，以缺席

pretending like us all

擔演無知，人人如此。

that absence could play innocent.

這一切就在面前：

Still this pain, this emptiness before me.

痛苦，或者空無。

Today I ate a cherry,

今天，我吃一顆櫻桃，

suddenly recalling my mother,

想起一個女人在我面前，

how she’d patiently endure, then exhale.

緩慢，忍耐爾後大聲喘息，

Once she placed in my mouth a candied cherry

她曾經，作為母親，

放一顆糖櫻桃在我嘴裏。

I slowly swallowed, a honeyed,

sweet-red corpse, its scarlet

我緩慢吞食這蜜樣的

surging like blood in a hypo,

嫣紅屍體。是如此的紅，

or desire’s vermilion fading

像那針管中湧動的血，

from her cheeks—that bewitching taste.

又紅如她臉頰上消失的

欲望——這迷人之食。