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Wanted: a needle swift enough to sew this poem into a blanket.

  • -- Charles Simic 西米克

需要:一根足够快的针把这首诗缝进毯子里。

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Poetry

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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign in solitude.

当我们和更好的自己分开太久，被匆忙的世界分开，变得萎靡不振。厌倦了它的工作，厌倦了它的快乐，孤独中多么亲切，多么善良。

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What's Love, if not this folly of a wider space, taking us to an innermost Love.

爱是什么，如果不是这个愚蠢的更广阔的空间，把我们带到一个最深处的爱。

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