The letters always just evade the hand

只是，这些信件总在回避手。

One skates like a stone into a beam, falls like a bird.

有一封如石子划出光束，像鸟坠下。

Surely the past from which the letters rise

无疑，信件从之发出的过去

Is waiting in the future, past the graves?

在未来等待，经过坟墓？

The soldiers are all haunted by their lives.

士兵们全被他们的生命所盘萦。

Their claims upon their kind are paid in paper

That established a presence, like a smell.

他们对同类的诉求在纸上满足，

In letters and in dreams they see the world.

这建立一种存在，像一种气味。

They are waiting: and the years contract

在信中，在梦里，他们看到世界。

To an empty hand, to one unuttered sound—

他们等待着：而岁月皱缩为

The soldier simply wishes for his name.

一只空手，一个未发出的声音——

士兵只盼望他的名字被叫出。