I heard the cry of pain,

我聽過痛苦的聲音，

then changed slowly, pathologically,

從那一刻我緩慢病變。

that muffled plea

那是沉鬱的哀求，

neither complaint nor fantasy,

不帶抱怨，也沒有

the pain direct, immediate,

幻想。痛苦就是直接。

yet powerless to enter—

而痛苦是沒有力量進入，

weak, sporadic, mute.

是軟弱，不敢頑固並沉默。

I dared not plunge my hand deep

我不敢把手探入它的核心，

to grasp the bloody ghost.

不敢挖出血淋淋的鬼。

My eyes fixed helpless on pure lies.

眼望著謊言的清潔。

I turned my face to mourn,

當時我哀哀地哭泣，

pretending like us all

轉過臉，以缺席

that absence could play innocent.

擔演無知，人人如此。

Still this pain, this emptiness before me.

這一切就在面前：

痛苦，或者空無。

Today I ate a cherry,

suddenly recalling my mother,

今天，我吃一顆櫻桃，

how she’d patiently endure, then exhale.

想起一個女人在我面前，

Once she placed in my mouth a candied cherry

緩慢，忍耐爾後大聲喘息，

她曾經，作為母親，

I slowly swallowed, a honeyed,

放一顆糖櫻桃在我嘴裏。

sweet-red corpse, its scarlet

surging like blood in a hypo,

我緩慢吞食這蜜樣的

or desire’s vermilion fading

嫣紅屍體。是如此的紅，

from her cheeks—that bewitching taste.

像那針管中湧動的血，

又紅如她臉頰上消失的

欲望——這迷人之食。