That resigned look! Here I am,

多顺命的样子！这就是我，

it says; fifty-nine,

它说；五十九，

balding, shirking the challenge

秃顶，逃避着

of the young girls. Time running out

青春少女们的挑战。时间正在耗尽，

now, and the soul

而灵魂

unfinished. And the heart knows

尚未完成。这颗心知道

this is not the portrait

这并非它摆姿势所描绘的

it posed for. Keep the lips

那幅肖像。保持双唇

firm; too many disappointments

紧闭；太多的失望

have turned the mouth down

已经让这张嘴垂到

at the corners. There is no surgery

角落里。没有手术

can mend those lines; cruelly

能够修复那些线条；残酷地

the light fingers them and the mind

光线弹拨它们而心灵

winces. All that skill,

抽搐。所有的技巧，

life, on the carving

生命，就靠那雕刻的

of the curved nostril and to no end

那弯曲的鼻孔，没有尽头

but disgust. The hurrying eyes

却令人作呕。匆忙的双眼

pause, waiting for an outdistanced

停下来，等待着一种超越的

gladness to overtake them.

喜悦追上它们。