他把糖块搅入黑色，看着白色的晶体

He stirs sugar into black, watching white crystals

变得半透明。他做一只卷烟，把

transluce. He rolls a cigarette, crimping a white tip

白色的过滤嘴儿和黑色的烟叶小心地捏进

and dark tobacco carefully within the rustle of thin

薄纸的窸窣声中，当他掐灭火柴，

paper and remembers, as he snaps a match lit,

他记起了过去时光：瞬间的从前。

a time before: just an instant.

那里是黑暗的，但是温暖

There was darkness there, but warmth.

是的，至美的温暖……当他把手放下

Yes, gorgeous warmth … a ‘shh’ pressed

唇间滑过轻微的嘘声。

to his lips before he was handed down.

白噪音的耳语……或许有什么声音？

The whisper of white noise … voices?

他记起了那坠落是多么长，多么陡，多么短。

He remembers, how long the fall was, how sheer, how short.

他吮着咖啡，感谢它又苦又甜的滋味。

He sips the coffee, thankful for its bitter sweetness.