这个女人已臻于完美。

The woman is perfected.

她死去的

Her dead

身体带着成就的微笑，

Body wears the smile of accomplishment,

希腊命运女神的幻像

The illusion of a Greek necessity

流动于她宽外袍的涡卷里，

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,

她赤裸的

Her bare

双脚似乎在说：

Feet seem to be saying:

我们已走了老远，该停下来了。

We have come so far, it is over.

每一个死去的孩子盘卷着，一条白色的毒蛇，

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,

在每一个小小的

One at each little

如今已空了的奶罐子。

Pitcher of milk, now empty.

她已将

She has folded

他们卷回自己的体内像玫瑰

Them back into her body as petals

的花瓣关闭当花园

Of a rose close when the garden

凝结而芳香自

Stiffens and odors bleed

夜华甜美、深沈的喉间流出。

From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.

月亮没有什么值得哀伤，

The moon has nothing to be sad about,

自她尸骨的头巾凝视。

Staring from her hood of bone.

她习于这类事情。

She is used to this sort of thing.

她的黑衣拖曳且沙沙作响。

Her blacks crackle and drag.