荒春独立天地。
黑水绕渠无影
唯有黄花耀眼。
余影踯躅缓行
形单似琴入箱。
欲吐余言无人听
恰如白银入当铺。
April and Silence
By Tomas Transtromer
Spring lies forsaken.
The velvet dark ditch
without reflections.
The only thing that shines
are yellow flowers.
I am cradled in my shadow
like a fiddle
in its black case.
The only I want to say
glimmers out of reach
like the silver
at the pawnbroker 's.
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