When you have nothing more to say, just drive        

当你再也无话可说，那就驾车

For a day all round the peninsula.                   

在半岛上兜它一天。

The sky is tall as over a runway,                         

天空高如跑道上的，

The land without marks, so you will not arrive                                           

地上没有标志所以你不会抵达

而只是经过，尽管总是在绕着初见的陆地转。

But pass through, though always skirting landfall.            

在黄昏时分，地平线喝尽了大海和山岳，

At dusk, horizons drink down sea and hill,                

犁过的田野吞下了刷白的三角墙

The ploughed field swallows the whitewashed gable   

而你再次在黑暗中。于是回想

And you're in the dark again. Now recall                     

上釉的前滩和倒影的原木，

The glazed foreshore and silhouetted log,         

把浪花撕成碎片的岩石，

That rock where breakers shredded into rags,   

用它们自己的脚踩高跷的细脚鸟，

The leggy birds stilted on their own legs,                                 

安然把它们自己驶进浓雾里的岛屿

Islands riding themselves out into the fog,         

然后驾车回家，仍然无话可说

And drive back home, still with nothing to say         

除了现在你将用这办法解开所有风景的

Except that now you will uncode all landscapes        

密码：事物自己呈现的形状都是那么光洁，

By this: things founded clean on their own shapes,    

水和地面都去到了它们的尽头。

Water and ground in their extremity.