I imagine this midnight moment’s forest:

我想象这座午夜时的森林：

Something else is alive

有些什么别的东西在活动，

Beside the clock’s loneliness

除了钟的孤独

And this blank page where my fingers move.

以及这张移动着我的手指的白纸。

Through the window I see no star:

我透过窗户看见没有星辰：

Something more near

有什么别的东西在临近，

Though deeper within darkness

虽然深深藏在黑暗中

Is entering the loneliness:

却正在进入静寂。

Cold, delicately as the dark snow,

冰凉，轻微得象黑暗里的雪花，

A fox’s nose touches twig, leaf;

一双狐狸的鼻子触着细枝、嫩叶；

Two eyes serve a movement, that now

一双眼睛帮着它活动，在这里

And again now, and now, and now

又是这里，在这里，又是这里，

Sets neat prints into the snow

雪地上的脚印在树丛间

Between trees, and warily a lame

越来越近，一个瘸着的影子

Shadow lags by stump and in hollow

小心翼翼地迟疑在树桩边，

Of a body that is bold to come

一个空虚的身体大胆地来到，

Across clearings, an eye,

穿过空地，像一只眼睛，

A widening deepening greenness,

广阔深邃的碧绿颜色，

Brilliantly, concentratedly,

闪闪发亮，全神贯注，

Coming about its own business

来到干它自己的事情，直至

Till, with sudden sharp hot stink of fox

带着突然强烈炙热的狐狸气味

It enters the dark hole of the head.

它进入了头脑里黑暗的洞穴。

The window is starless still; the clock ticks,

窗外依然没有星辰，钟声滴答，

The page is printed.

纸上却已印下了文字。