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In the morning, a word
from someone else’s
dream peeks at me
like a conspiracy.
The minute I open my eyes
the word,
with an elegant gesture,
takes me.
The lonely word
is a terminal patient:
pain and screaming,
possibly lethal.
But I’m envious—it flies up
the minute it takes me.
6.28.1995
In the morning, a word
from someone else’s
dream peeks at me
like a conspiracy.
The minute I open my eyes
the word,
with an elegant gesture,
takes me.
The lonely word
is a terminal patient:
pain and screaming,
possibly lethal.
But I’m envious—it flies up
the minute it takes me.
6.28.1995
某天早晨
一个词
好像一个阴谋
躲在别人的梦中窥视着我
就在我睁开眼睛的一瞬间
它以优雅的姿态
占据了我
孤独的词
如同绝症
疼痛并且尖利
可以置人于死地
我真羡慕这个词
占有了我
然后生机勃勃
1995.6.28.
