Turning by by Rebecca Watts

现在是秋天了
又是一年，我可能离开你的日子
像一艘缓慢下沉的船
空气渐渐变得尖锐
我打算让自己躺进
装上帘子的公寓，
不必担心，陌生人
会停止聚集在下面的巷子里
说笑
枯黄的草地不再
敢把脸贴到窗子上
像一位盘问者。
很快，即使河流也会显露出越来越厚的皮肤
每天早晨我的呼吸将喷出白花，
夏天所有的图形都将像布谷鸟一样飞走
树叶变黄，树木将它们摇落
篝火冒出炊烟，在我们之间徘徊
像久久不散的承诺。
Now it’s autumn
and another year in which I could leave you
is a slowly sinking ship.
The air has developed edges
and I am preparing to let myself lie
in a curtained apartment,
safe in the knowledge that strangers
have ceased to gather and laugh
in the lane below
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and the brazen meadow no longer
presumes to press its face to the window
like an inquisitor.
Soon even the river will evince a thicker skin,
my breath each morning will flower white,
and all of summer’s schemes will fly like cuckoos.
The leaves are turning and the trees
are shaking them off. Bonfire smoke
between us like a promise lingers.