The Fall is Falling
——To My Wife
Nothing can be compared to the fall,
Even our letters in love. Burning
The sunshine, burning the memory.
Butterflies and flames flash back
Slowly. Without notice, leaves change color.
A wide museum, flowers present all the moments
people have lived. Deeper and deeper,
Darkness devours the empty.
Have we ever been young?
Have we ever existed before the love,
Looking at each other as strangers?
Did we smile, just politely?
As we passed by swiftly, exchanging
Shadows and the season.
That spring has been rising, until
The fall is falling,
Upon endless past, burning.
2002，为青生日而作。
青很喜爱，后来把它译成中文。许多年来，青是我诗文的唯一读者。青的文笔也不错，当年写给我的信情真意切，简洁优美。不过青极少动笔。有时高兴，就把我写给她的诗从英文翻成中文，或者从中文到英文。
《秋日致爱妻》
无物可比的秋天
即使用我们爱的书柬。阳光
在燃烧，回忆在燃烧
蝴蝶与火焰忽闪着，缓缓重回
旧日。不知不觉中，树叶变色
一座宽大的博物馆，花朵中重现
人类所有的时间。而越来越深的黑暗
吞噬空白无边
我们是否曾经年轻？
我们是否曾经存活，在爱之前
像陌生人一样相互对视？
那时我们是否面带微笑，仅仅出于礼貌？
当我们擦肩而过，交换
背影和季节
那个春天一直在上升，直到
秋天降临
无尽的过去，回忆在燃烧
2004，青译
