我祖母的情书回忆尽在其中

There are no stars tonight

But those of memory.

Yet how much room for memory there is

In the loose girdle of soft rain.

今夜没有星星

却有回忆点点。

而流云柔雨中

能容多少回忆?

There is even room enough

For the letters of my mothers mother,

Elizabeth,

That have been pressed so long

Into a corner of the roof

That they are brown and soft,

And liable to melt as snow.

原来回忆尽在其中，

连我祖母伊丽莎白的信

也还在，

挤塞在屋顶一角

很久很久。

已经泛黄、柔软，

随时像雪一般融化。 Over the greatness of such space

Steps must be gentle.

It is all hung by an invisible white hair.

It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air.

走进这回忆的圣殿

脚步一定要轻柔。

它全系于一根看不见的白发。

它颤抖着，如桦树枝在网罗空气。

And I ask myself:

我问自己：

Are your fingers long enough to play