I wanted, I thought, only a little,

我想要的，我以为，只有少许,

two teaspoons of silence—

两茶匙的寂静——

one for sugar,

一勺代替糖,

one for stirring the wetness.

一勺搅动潮湿。

No.

不。

I wanted a Cairo of silence,

我要一整个开罗的寂静,

a Kyoto.

一整个京都

In every hanging garden

每一座悬空的花园里

mosses and waters.

青苔和水。

The directions of silence:

寂静的方向：

north, west, south, past, future.

北，西，南，过去，未来。

It comes through any window

它钻进任何一扇窗户

one inch open,

那一寸的缝隙,

like rain driven sideways.

像斜落的雨。

Grief shifts,

悲痛挪移,

as a grazing horse does,

仿佛一匹吃草的马,

one leg to the other.

交替着腿蹄。

But a horse sleeping

马睡着时

sleeps with all legs locked.

腿全都上了锁。