我張開四肢趴在床上，像一塊大遊戲毯：
腹部向下，雙腿大開。這是冬天。
平常的日子。你的父親在地板上擺動雙腳。
樓上孩子們在咯咯作響的輪子上
來回拖東西。我是空的，被任何
膨脹的東西吹過，旋轉，斷裂
夜複一夜，在那房間。你必定尋找過
感覺好像永恒的事物，想要成為
在我們之間如火往返傳遞的東西
想要重力，渴求渴望，死亡
墜入肉體，缺失，短暫的生存狂喜。
從什麽夢幻的世界掙脫？
什麽飛升----什麽悲哀----當你讓意誌
對準像我在床單上活生生的肉體？
（林木譯）
When Your Small Form Tumbled into Me
By Tracy K. Smith
I lay sprawled like a big-game rug across the bed:
Belly down, legs wishbone-wide. It was winter.
Workaday. Your father swung his feet to the floor.
The kids upstairs dragged something back and forth
On shrieking wheels. I was empty, blown-through
By whatever swells, swirling, and then breaks
Night after night upon that room. You must have watched
For what felt like forever, wanting to be
What we passed back and forth between us like fire.
Wanting weight, desiring desire, dying
To descend into flesh, fault, the brief ecstasy of being.
From what dream of world did you wriggle free?
What soared—and what grieved—when you aimed your will
At the yes of my body alive like that on the sheets?
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