你是一个丑角，你把握着命运之神，

Clownlike, happiest on your hands,

在星星上行走，晃动月亮的脑壳。

Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,

脸腮似鱼，一个通用的器官

Gilled like a fish. A common-sense

在嘟嘟的声响中毁灭了。

Thumbs-down on the dodo’s mode.

线轴般地裹住自己，

Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,

猫头鹰一样，被网在黑暗之中。

Trawling your dark as owls do.

沉默着，象六月四日白痴节的萝卜，

Mute as a turnip from the Fourth

哦，高高地升起来了，我的小面包。

Of July to All Fools’ Day,

O high-riser, my little loaf.

迷雾中，寻找着相象的邮船。

比去澳大利亚更其遥远。

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.

返回地图册，我们是富有旅行经验的斑节虾。

Farther off than Australia.

被波浪抛起，我们亲如兄弟，

Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.

象盐缸里的西鲱。

Snug as a bud and at home

一只鳗鲡鱼娄，装满涟漪。

Like a sprat in a pickle jug.

激动得象一颗墨西哥蚕豆。

A creel of eels, all ripples.

对，正如挖到一口井的源头。

Jumpy as a Mexican bean.

一个清晰的回忆，映现在脸上。

Right, like a well-done sum.

A clean slate, with your own face on.