一整天，整座城市里，每个人

All day all over the city every person

都徘徊于一座不同的城市，密不透气，

Wanders a different city, sealed intact

像城市地下的那些废弃地铁站一样

And haunted as the abandoned subway stations

闹鬼。哪儿是我面向胡同的门廊？

Under the city. Where is my alley doorway?

石头山墙，砖头悬崖，水晶绝壁。

Stone gable, brick escarpment, cliffs of crystal.

我层叠的街道在哪儿，在海港上方，

Where is my terraced street above the harbor,

在咖啡馆及秘密工坊、爱情小屋之上？

Café and hidden workshop, house of love?

布网的拱顶，铺砖的黑色。我的公园在哪，

Webbed vault, tiled blackness. Where is my park, the path

那穿过针叶树的小径，我的铁长凳，

Through conifers, my iron bench, a shiver

常春藤和白桦在车水马龙之上的一颤？

Of ivy and margin birch above the traffic?

一个声音。有一人，害了相思病，写道：

A voice. There is a mountain and a wood

我们之间隔着一座山和一片树林，已故的

Between us —one wrote, lovesick— Where the late

猎人和那只鸟已经看到我们。心，无目的地

Hunter and the bird haveseen us. Aimless at dusk,

在黄昏中，喃喃自语，像任何一个被弃者，

Heart muttering like any derelict,

或者带着狂烈的意志，工作整个上午，

Or working all morning, violent with will,

我的灯盏花环在哪里？我的银栏杆呢？

Where is my garland of lights? My silver rail?