这首诗不是题献给你。

This poem is not addressed to you.

你可能会在字词间轻掠而过，

You may come into it briefly,

但没有任何人会发现，没有。

But no one will find you here, no one.

在诗句转向之前，你已经面目全非，

You will have changed before the poem will.

了无踪迹。

Even while you sit there, unmovable,

即使你坐在那儿，外力不能移，

You have begun to vanish. And it does not matter.

也会开始渐渐消隐。这无所谓。

The poem will go on without you.

即使没有你，这首诗也可以继续前行。

It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.

基于错误的前提，

这看起来很像某种缺憾带来的美丽。

It is not sad, really, only empty.

Once perhaps it was sad, no one knows why.

这并不令人悲伤，真的，它只是空洞而已。

It prefers to remember nothing.

可能它曾经令人悲伤，但没有人知其所以。

Nostalgias were peeled from it long ago.

它不希望给你的记忆留下一点痕迹。

在很久以前，它已经被剥下怀旧的外皮。

Your type of beauty has no place here.

Night is the sky over this poem.

你的那种美丽在此无处容身。

It is too black for stars.

黑夜是这首诗的天空，

And do not look for any illumination.

太黑了，星星都无处容身。

请不要在此寻找光明的踪迹。

You neither can nor should understand what it means.

Listen, it comes without guitar,

你不能，也不应该理解它意味着什么。

Neither in rags nor any purple fashion.

听，它没有吉他伴奏，

And there is nothing in it to comfort you.

不衣衫褴褛也不紫气金迷。

里面没有任何东西可以安抚你。

Close your eyes, yawn. It will be over soon.

You will forget the poem, but not before

闭上你的眼睛，打个哈欠。它很快就会过去。

It has forgotten you. And it does not matter.

你会忘记这首诗，在此之前

It has been most beautiful in its erasures.

这首诗已经忘记你。

但这无所谓。

O bleached mirrors! Oceans of the drowned!

在被抹去的字句之间，

Nor is one silence equal to another.

它已焕发出最大的美丽。

And it does not matter what you think.

This poem is not addressed to you.

噢，漂白的镜子！溺毙者之海！

这世界上没有完全相同的静寂。

而你如何想无关紧要，

因为这首诗

并非题献给你。