出轨的大北方货车趴着，在车身旁边，

Along the sprawled body of the derailed Great Northern freight car,

我慢慢地划亮一根火柴，举起它。

I strike a match slowly and lift it slowly.

没有风。

No wind.

城外，三匹粗壮的白马

Beyond town, three heavy white horses

在筒仓的阴影中一路跋涉，

Wade all the way to their shoulders

阴影没过了它们的肩膀。

In a silo shadow.

突然，货车摇晃了一下。

Suddenly the freight car lurches.

门砰地一声关上了，一个拿着手电筒的男人

The door slams back, a man with a flashlight

对我说晚上好。

Calls me good evening.

我点了点头，在我写下“晚上好”时。有些孤独，

I nod as I write good evening, lonely

有些想家。

And sick for home.