这是心灵之光，冷冽，如行星般飘忽。

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.

心灵之树是黑的。光是蓝的。

The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.

绿草在我的双足卸下忧伤，彷佛我是上帝，

The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God,

刺痛了我的足踝，轻诉它们的卑微。

Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility.

迷离醉人的雾霭笼罩和我的屋子

Fumy, spirituous mists inhabit this place

仅一排墓石之隔的这个地方。

Separated from my house by a row of headstones.

我完全看不到眼前的去向。

I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

月亮不是一扇门。它自身即是一张脸，

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,

白如指关节，且极度不安。

White as a knuckle and terribly upset.

它拖曳大海，像拖着一桩邪恶罪行；它不作声，

It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet

彻底绝望地张大了嘴。我住在这里。

With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

礼拜天的两次钟声惊撼了天空——

Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky—

八根大舌证实了耶稣复活。

Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection.

最后，它们清醒地敲响自己的名字。

At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

紫杉朝向天空，有哥德式建筑的风格。

The yew tree points up. It has a Gothic shape.

眼睛顺着它向上望，就可发现月亮。

The eyes lift after it and find the moon.

月亮是我的母亲。她不像玛丽亚那般可亲。

The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.

她的蓝色衣裳释出一只只小蝙蝠和小猫头鹰。

Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.

我多么愿意相信温柔的存在——

How I would like to believe in tenderness—

那张肖像的脸，在烛光下显得柔美，

The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,

垂下温柔的眼睛，特别望着我。

Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

我已坠落得很深很远了。云朵正绽放，

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering

青蓝又神秘，在群星的脸庞上方。

Blue and mystical over the face of the stars.

教堂里，圣人们都将变蓝，

Inside the church, the saints will be all blue,

以纤弱的双脚漂浮于冰冷的长椅之上，

Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,

他们的手与脸因神圣而僵硬。

Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.

这一切，月亮全都没看见。她光秃又带野性。

The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.

紫杉的讯息则是黑——黑，以及沉默。

And the message of the yew tree is blackness—blackness and silence.