I wanted, I thought, only a little,

我想要的，我以為，只有少許，

two teaspoons of silence—

兩茶匙的寂靜——

one for sugar,

一勺代替糖，

one for stirring the wetness.

一勺攪動潮濕。

No.

不。

I wanted a Cairo of silence,

我要一整個開羅的寂靜，

a Kyoto.

一整個京都。

In every hanging garden

每一座懸空的花園裏

mosses and waters.

青苔和水。

The directions of silence:

寂靜的方向：

north, west, south, past, future.

北，西，南，過去，未來。

It comes through any window

它鑽進任何一扇窗

one inch open,

敞開一寸的縫隙，

like rain driven sideways.

像斜落的雨。

Grief shifts,

悲痛挪移，

as a grazing horse does,

彷彿一匹吃草的馬，

one leg to the other.

交替著腿蹄。

But a horse sleeping

馬睡著時

sleeps with all legs locked.

腿全都上了鎖。