Thanks for Remembering Us by Dana Gioia

错送到这儿的花
签着没人认识的名字，
正在凋零变。我要做什么呢？
我们的邻居说不是给她的，
附近也没有人过生日。
我们应该感谢某人的大错。
是我们中的一个人有外遇吗？
我们起初大笑，然后我们怀疑。
鸢尾花是最先枯死的，
裹在它孱弱的芳香中
久久不散的香气。玫瑰
每次只落一个花瓣，
现在羊齿草正在变干。
房间闻起来像一场葬礼，
可是它们坐在那里，很舒服。
控告我们的某些小罪，
像忘记了的爱，我们不能
扔出我们从未拥有的礼物
The flowers sent here by mistake,
signed with a name that no one knew,
are turning bad. What shall we do?
Our neighbor says they're not for her,
and no one has a birthday near.
We should thank someone for the blunder.
Is one of us having an affair?
At first we laugh, and then we wonder.
The iris was the first to die,
enshrouded in its sickly-sweet
and lingering perfume. The roses
fell one petal at a time,
and now the ferns are turning dry.
The room smells like a funeral,
but there they sit, too much at home,
accusing us of some small crime,
like love forgotten, and we can't
throw out a gift we've never owned.
"Thanks for Remembering Us" by Dana Gioia, from Daily Horoscope. © Graywolf Press, 1986. Reprinted with permission.