Cold now.

现在，冷

Close to the edge. Almost

到了极点。几乎

unbearable. Clouds

难以忍受。云

bunch up and boil down

汇成一团，

from the north of the white bear.

从北极熊的北方翻腾而来。

This tree-splitting morning

在这个树冷得开裂的清晨，

I dream of his fat tracks,

我梦想它肥胖的足迹

the lifesaving suet.

和维持生命的脂肪。

I think of summer with its luminous fruit,

我怀念夏天，连同它明亮的果实，

blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,

环绕着浆果的鲜花，叶子，

handfuls of grain.

一捧捧谷粒。

Maybe what cold is, is the time

也许所谓冷，是这样的时刻：

we measure the love we have always had, secretly,

我们为了自己的身体，秘密地衡量

for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love

我们一直拥有的爱，坚硬而锋利的爱，

for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

一个为“我”而排他的温暖水域；也许

that is what it means the beauty

它意味着蓝鲨之美，它正游向

of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

翻筋斗的海豹。

In the season of snow,

在雪的季节，

in the immeasurable cold,

在无限的冷中，

we grow cruel but honest; we keep

我们残忍却诚实地生长；我们使

ourselves alive,

自己活着，

if we can, taking one after another

如果可以，我们不断占有

the necessary bodies of others, the many

必需的其他肉体，这些

crushed red flowers.

被压碎的红色花朵。