You stand at the window.
There is a glass cloud in the shape of a heart.
There are the wind’s sighs that are like caves in your speech.
You are the ghost in the tree outside.

The street is quiet.
The weather, like tomorrow, like your life,
is partially here, partially up in the air.
There is nothing you can do.

The good life gives no warning.
It weathers the climates of despair
and appears, on foot, unrecognized, offering nothing,
and you are there.

你站在窗边。那里有一块心形的玻璃云。那里，风的叹息犹如你言语中的洞穴。你是外面树中的幽灵。 街道安静。天气，如同明天，如同你的生活，部分在这儿，部分在空中。你什么也不能做。 美好生活没有先兆。它经受住绝望的氛围，然后出现，步行而来，不被认识，不带来什么，

而你就在那儿。