Maxwell Bodenheim - Old Age 汉译

In me is a little painted square

Bordered by old shops with gaudy awnings.

And before the shops sit smoking, open-bloused old men,

Drinking sunlight.

The old men are my thoughts;

And I come to them each evening, in a creaking cart,

And quietly unload supplies.

We fill slim pipes and chat

And inhale scents from pale flowers in the center of the aquare….

Strong men, tinkling women, and dripping, squealing chiidren

Stroll past us, or into the shops.

They freet the shopleepers and touch their hats or foreheads to me….

Some evening I shall not return to my people.