From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through

从光的平面转入另一个平面，翅膀穿越

Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds,

落日筑起的几何学与兰花，

Out of the peak’s black angularity of shadow, riding

飞出山峰阴影的黑色角度，骑着

The last tumultuous avalanche of

最后一阵光线喧闹的雪崩

Light above pines and the guttural gorge,

在松林上，在咽喉似的山谷上，鹰来了。

The hawk comes.

它的翅膀

His wing

切下又一天。它的运动

Scythes down another day, his motion

像磨快的钢刀挥动，我们听见

Is that of the honed steel-edge, we hear

时间之茎无声地倒下。

The crashless fall of stalks of Time.

每根茎上都沉着地挂着金子，那是我们的错误结成的。

The head of each stalk is heavy with the gold of our error.

看！看！它正攀上最后的光线

Look! Look! he is climbing the last light

它既不知道时间，又不知道错误，不知道

Who knows neither Time nor error, and under

在谁的永不宽恕的眼光下，这未被宽恕的世界

Whose eye, unforgiving, the world, unforgiven, swings

摆进了黑影之中。

Into shadow.

最后一个画眉

Long now,

唱了很久，现在也静默了，最后一个蝙蝠

The last thrush is still, the last bat

在尖削的象形文字中回翔。它的智慧

Now cruises in his sharp hieroglyphics. His wisdom

太古老，太宏大。星星

Is ancient, too, and immense. The star

像柏拉图一般坚定，照在群山上。

Is steady, like Plato, over the mountain.

要是没有风，我想我们能听到

If there were no wind we might, we think, hear

地球在轴上转，格格地响，听到历史

The earth grind on its axis, or history

在黑暗中点点滴滴，像地窖里漏水的管子。

Drip in darkness like a leaking pipe in the cellar.