Love will wither, they say,

Love will fade, just like

The rose. But don’t you see,

Says the poet, just as

Every nightingale 

Is the same nightingale,

Every rose is the same rose

That the blind Milton held close

And could not see. Yet Sappho,

Generation after generation of

Women who sing for love,

Are roses.

They die and they arise.

Letting out a cry that flies across 

The shining sea

And moves the stone

And makes it bloom.

It’s called the Siren songs,

But we know better—we know the truth—

It’s the earthly miracle.

另一朵玫瑰与弥尔顿

爱会老去，他们说

爱会凋谢

一如玫瑰。可

你们忘了，诗人说

正如每一只夜莺都是同一只夜莺

每一朵玫瑰也是同一朵玫瑰

弥尔顿将它凑近眼前

而看不见。而

萨福，一代代为爱歌唱的女人

就是玫瑰。

她们逝去又回归。

一声呼喊，穿过闪耀的大海

移石壳而动石心。

他们说，那是塞壬之歌

可我们说，我们知道真相——

那是人之奇迹。

June 11 01:00