The winter evening settles down
冬天的夜晚降临
With smell of steaks in passageways.
带着走廊里牛排的气味。
Six o’clock.
六点钟。
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
烟熏日子的尽头。
And now a gusty shower wraps
现在一阵急雨包裹着
The grimy scraps
肮脏的碎片
Of withered leaves about your feet
枯叶在你脚边
And newspapers from vacant lots;
和空地上的报纸;
The showers beat
阵雨拍打着
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
破百叶窗和烟囱管,
And at the corner of the street
在街道的拐角处
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
一匹孤独的马车马喷着热气并跺脚。
And then the lighting of the lamps.
然后灯亮了。
The morning comes to consciousness
清晨苏醒过来
Of faint stale smells of beer
伴随着淡淡的陈啤酒味
From the sawdust-trampled street
从铺满木屑的街道上
With all its muddy feet that press
所有的泥脚踩过
To early coffee-stands.
走向早间的咖啡摊。
One thinks of all the hands
人们会想到所有的手
That are raising dingy shades
拉起昏暗的窗帘
In a thousand furnished rooms.
在成千上万的房间里。
You tossed a blanket from the bed,
你把毯子从床上扔下,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
仰面躺下,等待;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
你打盹,看着夜晚揭示
The thousand sordid images
成千上万卑劣的形象
Of which your soul was constituted;
你的灵魂由此构成;
They flickered against the ceiling.
它们在天花板上闪烁。
And when all the world came back
当整个世界回来时
And the light crept up between the shutters
光线从百叶窗间爬升
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
你听到排水沟里的麻雀,
You had such a vision of the street
你对这条街有这样的景象
As the street hardly understands;
这是街道几乎无法理解的;
Sitting along the bed’s edge, where
坐在床边,
You curled the papers from your hair,
你将纸卷从头发中取下,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
或将脚底板握在
In the palms of both soiled hands.
两只脏手中。
His soul stretched tight across the skies
他的灵魂紧绷在天空中
That fade behind a city block,
消失在城市街区后方,
Or trampled by insistent feet
或被坚持的脚步践踏
At four and five and six o’clock;
在四点、五点和六点;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
短粗的手指塞满了烟斗,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
还有晚报,以及眼睛
Assured of certain certainties,
确信某些确定的事物,
The conscience of a blackened street
一条变黑的街道的良知
Impatient to assume the world.
迫不及待地要承担世界。