The Lily by Mary Oliver

夜复一夜
黑暗
进入
百合的脸
它，轻柔地，
合上她的五面墙
围上自己，
和它的
蜜钱包，
它的香气，
是花园里
久久不散去
的内涵，
欲睡还醒，
而，或许
用百合的语言诉说
某些我们听不见的
细语
即使没有风时
无论何处，
它的嘴唇
都秘而不宣，
它的舌头
隐藏得很深--
要不然，或许
她没说丝毫事情
只是以植物
和圣徒的
耐心
站在那里
直至整个地球转过来
银色的月亮
变成金色的太阳--
就如百合知道它必定会那样，
那就是它本身，不是吗，
这位完美的祈祷者？
Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer?