I seem to have come to the end of something, but don’t know what,

我似乎已经走到某个尽头，但不知道是哪一个，

Full moon blood orange just over the top of the redbud tree.

满月血橙就挂在紫荆树顶。

Maundy Thursday tomorrow,

明天是圣星期四，

                         then Good Friday, then Easter in full drag,

然后耶稣受难日，然后复活节马不停蹄，

Dogwood blossoms like little crosses

山茱萸花开得像小十字架

All down the street,

整条街道，

                    lilies and jonquils bowing their mitred heads.

百合花和长寿花垂首点头。

Perhaps it’s a sentimentality about such fey things,

也许是对这些灵异的事多愁善感吧，

But I don’t think so. One knows

但我不以为然。人们知道

There is no end to the other world,

另一个世界没有尽头，

                                    no matter where it is.

无论它究竟在哪里。

In the event, a reliquary evening for sure,

这件事，让神圣的夜晚确定无疑，

The bones in their tiny boxes, rosettes under glass.

骨头在他们的小盒子里，玫瑰花在玻璃之下。

Or maybe it’s just the way the snow fell

或许这就是前几天

                                         a couple of days ago,

雪落样子，

So white on the white snowdrops.

所以白色在白色的雪花上。

As our fathers were bold to tell us,

正如我们的祖先大胆告知我们，

                                    it’s either eat or be eaten.

要么吃，要么被吃。

Spring in its starched bib,

春天在浆硬的围嘴上，

Winter’s cutlery in its hands. Cold grace. Slice and fork.

冬天的餐具握在手里。冷的恩典。片和叉。