How can I not want to sift through the aureole Of blips and squeaks surrounding Radio City? On the fifth day I pick up her laughter, Along a row of shops where music spills onto the street. The bruised fruit of the air Breathes to her a secret quivering. I lose her at the doorway of a juice bar Not being alive enough to the music. One week later I place her again, She is in a series of cubicles; She can send only a position locator, She is exposed to the weather, where others have dug in. I consign her to the distance, but my comfort-seeking heart Still looks to her hard work in the past Surely, that has prepared her to take hold, While I go off and try to take hold myself. I know—a rootless rage is afoot, And many cannot point to it For it hounds them like dogs of Bardo. She takes it in herself, in heart and hands, her long crossing has began. Her initiation in which I hope to follow her, If I only do my part to lead her along.
但我只能在外围的混乱信号中于数天之后才收到她零散的笑声在一排溢出音乐的商业街上水果被碰伤的气息掺和了她心中的颤抖在我无法与其共振的音乐伴奏中她的身影消逝在果汁巴的门口不久我再次查找她时她在一排立方体的隔间中只能把她暴露于风雨中的位置信号传出我把她交给了别离我渴求得到安慰的心仍记得她曾付出的努力我坚信已有的锻炼会使她的根抓住新的土壤而我自己将会平衡自己的继续生长我知道有一把怒火正在四处游荡许多人不相信它会落到自己身上而她承受了用心灵和双手长远的跨渡从此开始我愿尽职地牵领她并跟随她进入未来