Poppies
　　Waking from comalike sleep，I saw the poppies，
　　with their limp necks and unregimented beauty.
　　Pause，I thought，say something true: it was night，
　　I wanted to kiss your lips，which remained supple，
　　but all the water in them had been replaced
　　with embalming compound. So I was angry.
　　I loved the poppies，with their wide-open faces，
　　how they carried themselves，beckoning to me，
　　instead of pushing away. The way in and the way out
　　are the same，essentially: emotions disrupting thought，
　　proximity to God，the pain of separation.
　　I loved the poppies，with their effortless existence，
　　like grief and fate，but tempered and formalized.
　　Your hair was black and curly; I combed it.
　　
　　从昏睡中醒来，我看见了罂粟，
　　她们有柔软无力的颈项，还有无拘无束的美丽。
　　我停下，想了想，说句实话：现在是夜里，
　　我想亲吻你的嘴唇，它总是那么柔顺，
　　可里面流淌的水分，已被香精混合物替代。
　　于是我愤怒了。
　　我爱罂粟，爱她们张扬的脸庞，
　　爱她们摇曳的体态，她们总是召唤着我，
　　而不是把我推开。入口和出口
　　基本是一样的：情感冲破了理智，
　　我接近了上帝，我感到了痛苦的分离。
　　我爱罂粟，
　　她们可以毫不费力地存活，
　　像无处不在的宿命与悲伤，
　　但却久经雕塑和打磨。
　　你的头发乌黑卷曲，我来梳理。
　　
　　译者小感：最是那不经意的诱惑，久久萦绕在心中，看似有意，实则无形。在愤怒和忧伤之余，却发现什么都没有改变