Cut back the stems an inch to keep in bloom.

“把茎剪掉一寸以保持花朵常开”

So instructs the florist’s note

塞在花束中的

enclosed inside the flowers.

花店的纸条如是写道

Who knew what was cut

谁知道什么被切断，

could heal again, the green wounds close,

还可以重新复原，绿色的伤口闭合，

stitching themselves together?

会把自己缝在一起？

It doesn’t matter. The flowers, red

这并不重要。那些鲜花，红的

and white, will bloom awhile, then wither.

和白的，将会开放些许时候，然后凋枯。

You sit in an unlit room and watch

你坐在没有点灯的房间中看着

the vase throw crystal shadows through the dark.

花瓶穿过黑暗投射水晶的阴影。

The flowers’ colors are so lovely they’re painful.

那些鲜花的颜色是多么可爱多么伤痛。

In a week, you’ll have to throw them out.

过了一个星期，你必须要将它们扔掉。

It’s only hope that makes you take out scissors,

唯一的希望是你拿出剪刀，

separate each bloom and cut

将每朵花分开和切断

where you last measured. Did you know

你触摸到的尾端。你知道吗

Venus was said to turn into a virgin

维纳斯在每次洗澡后

each time she bathed? She did it

都会变回处女？她把这当成爱情

as a mark of love. She did it

的分段标记。真的，她真的这样。

so as to please her lovers. Perhaps,

这只为了取悦她的情人。可能吧，

overwhelmed by pain,

最终她被痛苦压倒，

she eventually stopped bathing

从此再不沐浴。这无所谓。还是感受那乐趣吧，

altogether. It doesn’t matter. It’s a pleasure

感觉那绿色的小脏头儿被剪去，看那花茎

to feel the green nubs stripped, watch the stems

在你的刃下翻新。它们在这里

refresh under your blade. They’re here

只因为它们的美丽。它们在你的水晶花瓶里

because they’re beautiful. They glow

燃烧。但那些花朵自身仍然只是虚妄，

inside your crystal vase. And yet

只是光线的折射，一两个星期，

the flowers by themselves are nothing:

即被抛弃。

only a refraction of color that,

一天天，水线下降，那红的

in a week or two, will be thrown out.

那白的脑袋耷拉下来，花茎黢黑。

Day by day, the water lowers. The red-

这无所谓。即使切开的花茎也能痊愈。

and-white heads droop, blacken at the stems.

但是如果它能痊愈，那曾经的痛又有什么意义？

It doesn’t matter. Even cut stems heal.

“有些事会地久天长”，花店的纸条上如是写道。快乐，

But what is the point of pain if it heals?

一个神说。羞愧，另一个神说。

Some things should last forever, instructs

他们把这些花叫“维纳斯的脑袋”。

the florist’s note. Pleasure,

过一两个星期，你会丢掉这张纸条，

says one god. Shame, says another.

你必须要给花店打个电话。

Venus heads, they call these flowers.

带着同情，你会想他说什么。

In a week or two, you’ll lose the note,

他可能会说：“送花的人要对你示爱”。这不重要，

have to call the florist up.

你已经不再沐浴。你独自

With sympathy, you’ll think he says.

坐在水晶花瓶前，花瓶的反射影像穿过黑暗

Perhaps: With love. It doesn’t matter.

把你撕成一片片。你看着

You’ve stopped bathing. Alone,

花瓶里苍白的皮肤，凋枯。

you sit before the crystal

你生出花瓣，一寸又一寸，

vase refracting you in pieces

红和白，旋覆着，在一起。

through the dark. You watch

the pale skin bloom inside it, wither.

You petal, inch by inch.

You turn red and white together.