The planet turns there without you, beautiful.

地球在宇宙中旋转，实在美丽，

Exiled by death you cannot

但你已经被死亡放逐，

touch it. Weird joy to watch postulates

无法触及。看那生前的执念，

lived out and discarded, something crowded

长出身体，散开在宇宙空间，

inside us always craving to become something

实在有一种怪趣；

glistening outside us, the relentless planet

有些东西一直挤满我们的身体，

却总渴望跑到外面，

showing itself the logic of what is

光耀自己；而我们无情的行星

buried inside it. To love existence

is to love what is indifferent to you

一直在展现

深埋地下的逻辑。爱“存在”

you think, as you watch it turn there, beautiful.

就是爱那些

World that can know itself only by

从来不在乎你的东西。

world, soon it must colonize and infect the stars.

你在思考，当你望着那地球

You are an hypothesis made of flesh.

转在宇宙里，好美丽好美丽。

What you will teach the stars is constant

世界要了解世界，

rage at the constant prospect of not-being.

只能靠了解自己，很快它就会对外殖民，

感染整个星际。

•

你只是一个假设，

Sometimes when I wake it's because I hear

承载它的是你的肉体。

a knock. Knock,

你可以教给群星的，

Knock. Two

只有面对“你并不存在”的事实

knocks, quite clear.

那持续的怒气。

I wake and listen. It's nothing.

•

有时我醒来，是因为我听见

一声敲门。笃笃，

笃笃。两次敲门，

清清楚楚。

当我醒来侧耳倾听，

却无声无息。