十二月底，我的父亲和我

Late December: my father and I

去纽约，去马戏团

are going to New York, to the circus.

他驮着我

He holds me

在他的肩膀上，在寒风中：

on his shoulders in the bitter wind:

白色的碎纸片

scraps of white paper

在铁路的枕木上方飞舞

blow over the railroad ties.

我的父亲喜欢

My father liked

就这样站着，驮着我

to stand like this, to hold me

所以他看不见我。

so he couldn't see me.

我仍记得

I remember

我笔直地盯着前方

staring straight ahead

望向我父亲所看到的世界里；

into the world my father saw;

我试着学习

I was learning

独自吸收他的空虚

to absorb its emptiness,

硕大的雪花

the heavy snow

它不落下，它绕着我们飞旋

not falling, whirling around us.