by T.W.

In the first morning light of
the last stretch of the year
A single star glistens
In the paling sky

Light from a grest distance
Its dimmed brilliance
Shines through the fog of my
breath

Is this me——
this jumble of feeling, this
mess of hopes?
I have searched a thousand
places for it

Perhaps it is too late ——
soon the night
Will evaporate into memory
Like the hair falling from my forehead
Showing something of the way
I see myself

The winter sun is now high in the sky

冬日

T.W.
在岁暮的晨曦中
天空里
有一颗孤照的星

就这样 遥遥地
闪耀
有限的光亮
直穿我的呼吸

那就是我吗？
那种痛苦
那种风情
我曾千度寻它的位置

莫说已经晚了
昨夜的记忆已经消失

乃如我殒落的额发
显示一种
坦荡

冬的太阳升高了