Edge
边缘

The woman is perfected.
这个女子完美无缺。

Her dead
她已死的

Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
身体带着圆满的微笑，

The illusion of a Greek necessity
希腊式自然规律的错觉

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
在托加袍的皱褶中流动，

Her bare
她赤裸的

Feet seem to be saying:
双脚似乎在说：

We have come so far, it is over.
我们已经走很远，一切结束。

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
每个死去的孩子卷曲着，一条白蛇，

One at each little
孩子身边的

Pitcher of milk, now empty.
小奶罐，现已空空。

She has folded
她已经折叠

Them back into her body as petals
他们送回她的身体如玫瑰

Of a rose close when the garden
花瓣合上，花园

Stiffens and odors bleed
凋零，夜间花朵的

From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.
气味从甜蜜的花颈深处散发。

The moon has nothing to be sad about,
月亮透过朦胧凝视着，

Staring from her hood of bone.
无事可使她感到悲哀。

She is used to this sort of thing.
她对此类事早已习以为常。

Her blacks crackle and drag.
她的黑影拖拽，噼啪作响。

(1963/02/05. pp.272—273. No. 224)
* * *