绑在烫人的轮子中央，

STRAPPED at the center of the blazing wheel,

面罩破碎，他的肉被映衬得冰一样白，

His flesh ice-white against the shattered mask,

他会随即按即解的扣子撕裂，潮湿的呼吸

He tears at the easy clasp, his sobbing breaths

如雾气融入鲜血，轻的化为火焰，

Misting the fresh blood lightening to flame,

浊的变成浓烟；他在那里受困于痛苦、

Darkening to smoke; trapped there in pain

火、窒息，当他挣脱，得到自由，

And fire and breathlessness, he struggles free

他进入高天的阳光——

Into the sunlight of the upper sky

下跌，天空中一个安静的包裹，

And falls, a quiet bundle in the sky,

再跌数哩可以温暖、空气、苏醒：

The miles to warmth, to air, to waking:

朝着他生命壮丽的开花、朝着那

To the great flowering of his life, the hemisphere

收藏他岁月的悬空半球。那漫长的缓慢

That holds his dangling years. In its long slow sway

摇曳中，世界趋于稳定，几乎静止……

The world steadies and is almost still. …

他独自一人，带着割裂、疏离、不足道的

He is alone; and hangs in knowledge

知识悬在半空：一只孤独的眼

Slight, separate, estranged: a lonely eye

阅读一个孩子第一张字条：航母的尾迹——

Reading a child’s first scrawl, the carrier’s wake

一次失准所留下的乳白圆圈

The traveling milk-like circle of a miss.

在植物似的浓烟精灵旁渐行渐远，

Beside the plant-like genius of the smoke

而浓烟笼罩了小甲板上的小火苗，

That shades, on the little deck, the little blaze

那是机翼枪吐出的玩具一般的闪光，

Toy-like as the glitter of the wing-guns,

照耀着，就像脆弱的太阳照射下的飞机，

Shining as the fragile sun-marked plane

冲着他生长，尖头着火的擦亮的银。

That grows to him, rubbed silver tipped with flame.