Pear Trees on Irving Street by Richard Widerkehr

这些白色的树--
它们漂浮着，落下几片花瓣
到街道上，不似暗淡的星星
不是白雪。
在严寒的东风中
这些树开花了
我想，没有任何的遗憾
或选择权。
如果夜晚的霜
来得太厚，
太快，它们将
不得不奉出它们所有，
似乎都无关紧要--
这些花簇
不再占据黑色的树枝，
而是保持它们自己的浮动性。
They float, these white trees—
a few petals, fallen
to the street, not stars fading,
not snow.
The trees have blossomed
in a freezing east wind.
None, I think, has any regrets
or choice.
If the night frost
comes too thick,
too fast, they’ll give
what they have to,
as if it were nothing—
these clusters,
held not by black branches,
but their own buoyancy.
“Pear Trees on Irving Street” by Richard Widerkehr from In the Presence of Absence. © Moon Path Press, 2017.