冬天的蚂蚁颤动的翅膀

The quivering wings of the winter ant

期待着贫瘠的冬季结束。

wait for lean winter to end.

我以迟钝的方式爱你，

I love you in slow, dim-witted ways,

几乎无语，只言片语而已。

hardly speaking, one or two words only.

是什么让我们各自隐秘地生活？

What caused us each to live hidden?

伤口，风，话语或母体。

A wound, the wind, a word, a parent.

有时我们无助地等待

Sometimes we wait in a helpless way,

多么笨拙，残缺而无法愈合。

awkwardly, not whole and not healed.

当我们把伤口掩饰，我们从人类退化

When we hid the wound, we fell back

成为一种带壳的生命。

from a human to a shelled life.

此时我们感到了蚂蚁坚硬的胸膛，

Now we feel the ant’s hard chest,

甲壳，沉默的舌头。

the carapace, the silent tongue.

这一定是蚂蚁的方式

This must be the way of the ant,

冬天的蚂蚁的方式，那些受伤却仍想

the winter ant, the way of those

活下去的生命的方式：

who are wounded and want to live:

呼吸，感知他人，等待。

to breathe, to sense another, and to wait.