A man talking to his ex-wife on the phone.

一个男人在和前妻通话。

He has loved her voice and listens with attention

他喜欢她的声音，仔细地听着

to every modulation of its tone. Knowing

每一个声调的变化。这声音熟悉得

it intimately. Not knowing what he wants

就像肌肤之亲。他并不知道想从这声音，

from the sound of it, from the tendered civility.

这柔和礼貌的语气中，得到些什么。

He studies, out the window, the seed shapes

他看着窗外，琢磨着那些观赏树木

of the broken pods of ornamental trees.

破裂的豆荚中种子的形状。

The kind that grow in everyone's garden, that no one

这种树长在每一家的花园，但是

but horticulturists can name. Four arched chambers

只有园艺学家知道它的名字。四个

of pale green, tiny vegetal proscenium arches,

淡绿色的拱形小室，就像舞台上的大拱，

a pair of black tapering seeds bedded in each chamber.

每个小室里有一对尾部渐尖的黑色种子。

A wish geometry, miniature, Indian or Persian,

就像一个表达愿望的几何形状，印度人或者波斯人，

lovers or gods in their apartments. Outside, white,

在他们的公寓里用来代表爱情或者神。在它外面，是白色的，

patient animals, and tangled vines, and rain.

隐忍的动物，纠结的藤蔓，还有雨。