我将会沉浸于什么景象
比这个好，
一个平常的夜晚在厨房餐桌旁，
花墙纸压入近逼，
白柜橱放满了玻璃杯，
电话沈默，
一支笔偏斜回我的手里？
这给我时间去考虑
发生在外面的一切—
落叶向角落聚集，
地衣绿了高高的灰色岩石。
而世界航行在沙丘之上，
庞大，朝向海，历史冒泡尾随。
但超出桌子之外
没有我的需要，
甚至没一份职业让我划向工作，
或一辆咖啡色的奥斯顿马丁DB4
配置着破裂的绿色皮车座。
不，全在这里，
一杯水的清晰椭圆，
一小条板箱桔子，一本有关斯大林的书，
不去提及那奇特的恶吠鱼
在墙上的一个框架里，
和那三支蜡烛的情形—
高矮各异—
正在完善和谐的歌唱。
那么原谅我
如果我此时低头倾听
那个短低音蜡烛的独唱。
而我的心
在我的衬衣下乱弹—
青蛙在池塘的边缘—
我的思绪却飞离向一个
用一个极其巨大的天空
和百万个空洞的分支构筑的地方。

I Ask You

What scene would I want to be enveloped in
more than this one,
an ordinary night at the kitchen table,
floral wallpaper pressing in,
white cabinets full of glass,
the telephone silent,
a pen tilted back in my hand?
It gives me time to think
about all that is going on outside—
leaves gathering in corners,
lichen greening the high grey rocks,
while over the dunes the world sails on,
huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.
But beyond this table
there is nothing that I need,
not even a job that would allow me to row to work,
or a coffee-colored Aston Martin DB4
with cracked green leather seats.
No, it's all here,
the clear ovals of a glass of water,
a small crate of oranges, a book on Stalin,
not to mention the odd snarling fish
in a frame on the wall,
and the way these three candles—
each a different height—
are singing in perfect harmony.
So forgive me
if I lower my head now and listen
to the short bass candle as he takes a solo
while my heart
thrums under my shirt—
frog at the edge of a pond—
and my thoughts fly off to a province
made of one enormous sky
and about a million empty branches.

By Billy Collins