晴朗的夜晚，一轮拇指尖大的明月，一个背后燃烧的天空。

Clear night, thumb-top of a moon, a back-lit sky.

月亮手指放下例行的事情

Moon-fingers lay down their same routine

在侧面平台和门槛，白键和黑键。

On the side deck and the threshold, the white keys and the black keys.

鸟儿无声鸟儿歌唱。桂花落下。

Bird hush and bird song. A cassia flower falls.

我想被上帝弄伤。

I want to be bruised by God.

我想挂在强光上单挑。

I want to be strung up in a strong light and singled out.

我想伸展，像音乐握紧落下的种子。

I want to be stretched, like music wrung from a dropped seed.

我想有人进入并干净地拾起。

I want to be entered and picked clean.

那风对我说，“什么？”。

And the wind says “What?” to me.

那蓖麻籽对我说，“什么？” 用的是死的小耳环。

And the castor beans, with their little earrings of death, say “What?” to me.

那些星星开始了冰冷滑行，穿过黑暗。

And the stars start out on their cold slide through the dark.

齿轮切合，发动机滚动。

And the gears notch and the engines wheel.