冬日的下午，
有一种倾斜的光，
压抑，像教堂音乐
一样沉重。
它造成神圣的创伤；
我们却找不到伤疤，
但是内心的变化便是意义所在。
无人能够讲解它，
它是绝望的封印，
一种帝王的折磨从天而降。
它来时，风景在倾听，
阴影屏住呼吸；
它走时，就像遥望死亡不
可企及的距离。
THERE’S a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.
None may teach it anything,
’T is the seal, despair,
— An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.
When it comes, the landscape listens, Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, ’t is like the distance
On the look of death.