An Owl’s call scrapes the stillness.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> Curtains are barriers and behind them The beds settle into neat rows. Soon they’ll be ruffled. The garden knows nothing of illness. Only it knows of the slow gleam Of stars, the moon’s distilling; it knows Why the beds and lawns are leveled.
A human cry cuts across a dream. A wild hand squeezes an open rose. We are in witchcraft, bedeviled. 入夜的疯人院后园 页枭的号叫刮破了沉静。 窗帘是道屏障,在背后, 睡床排列得齐齐整整, 一会儿就会床翻被皱。 园子不知何谓疾病。 它只知缓缓涌流 的星光,月色的渗滤;只知道 床榻与草地何以给弄得齐平。 然后,一切都从圆满变成破碎, 是人的一声尖叫,割破了梦境, 粗野的手,捏碎了盛放的玫瑰, 我们都着了魔,中了咒。 |
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