我知根知底，她说。我以我庞大的主根了解它：
I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root.
它是你畏惧之物。
It is what you fear.
我不怕它：我去过那儿。
I do not fear it: I have been there.
你在我体内听到的可是海？
Is it the sea you hear in me,
海的不满？
Its dissatisfactions?
抑或是那虚无之声，你的疯狂？
Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?
爱情是一片影子。
Love is a shadow.
你如何为它撒谎，苦苦哀泣
How you lie and cry after it.
听着，这是它的蹄印：它已远去，恰似马驹。
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.
我将整夜莽莽撞撞，飞驰如许，
All night I shall gallop thus, impetuously,
直至你的头颅变作石块，枕头变作小草皮，
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,
荡起回音，回音。
Echoing, echoing.
或者我该为你捎来毒药的声音？
Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons?
现在，落雨了，这大片的静谧。
This is rain now, this big hush.
而这就是它的果实：银色如锡，如砒霜。
And this is the fruit of it: tin-white, like arsenic.
我忍受了落日的残忍。
I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.
灼焦至根部
Scorched to the root
我的赤色纤维燃烧、竖立，一束电线丝。
My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wires.
现在，我崩解成碎片，飞散如棍棒。
Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
一阵如此暴烈的风
A wind of such violence
不会容忍袖手旁观：我必须尖叫。
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.
月亮也无恻隐心：她将残忍地
The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me
拖走不孕的我。
Cruelly, being barren.
她的光明割伤了我。或许是我撞上了她。
Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.
我让她走。我让她走
I let her go. I let her go
缺月扁平，如同做了放疗。
Diminished and flat, as after radical surgery.
你的噩梦是如何占有我，资助我。
How your bad dreams possess and endow me.
一声尖喊住进我的身体。
I am inhabited by a cry.
它夜夜振翅欲飞
Nightly it flaps out
用钩子索寻能够爱的事物。
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
我被睡在我体内的这种
I am terrified by this dark thing
晦暗之物吓坏了；
That sleeps in me;
一整天，我感受着它柔软的羽质的翻转，它的恶意。
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
云过云散。
Clouds pass and disperse.
那些是爱情的面容吗？那些苍白的一去不返之物？
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
我可是为此而心焦？
Is it for such I agitate my heart?
更多的知识我无能为力。
I am incapable of more knowledge.
这是什么，这张脸
What is this, this face
在它枝条的扭绞中如此杀气腾腾？——
So murderous in its strangle of branches?—
它的蛇酸嘶嘶作响。
Its snaky acids kiss.
它把意志石化。这些是孤绝、徐缓的讹误
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
它们杀，杀，杀。
That kill, that kill, that kill.