刚才，我的手

A while back I said

抚摸着记忆的壁毯

with my little hand upon

腰倚着布鲁斯，寻找着

the tapestry of memory and my loin

语言，我说：

leaning on the blues to find voice:

如果爱你是错的

If loving you is wrong

我不想做对

I do not want to do right

现在，虽然我没有

Now though I do not possess

马·卡·韦库尼尼那样

A thousand thundering voices

雷鸣般恢弘的嗓音

like Mazisi kaMdabuli weKunene

也没有克里斯·阿巴尼顽皮的勇气

nor Chris Abani's mischievous courage

当我追踪欲望和渴求的形状

as I trace the shape of desire and longing

我希望我是一个梦的绘图师

I wish I was a cartographer of dreams

最终只得到这个执拗的问题：

but what I end up with is this stubborn question:

我应更爱我的心吗

Should I love my heart more

因为每当我想念你

because every time I miss you/that is where I find you

我就能在它那里找到你