午夜鐘聲劃破沉默的膜

霓虹像傷口反復(fù)結(jié)痂又剝落

我守著空白的坐標(biāo) 倒數(shù)脈搏

那一點(diǎn)關(guān)鍵的光 仍在舌尖燒灼

若此刻開口 潮汐就會(huì)倒涌

若此刻緘默 黑夜便永遠(yuǎn)跪伏

讓未寄出的名字 懸在眼眶顫抖

讓未完成的墜落 停在失重的半途

我向著裂縫的盡頭 交出所有骨頭

只為在碎裂的回聲里 聽見你點(diǎn)頭

Snowlight hushes the lawn,

tinsel shivers alone on the pine—

every bulb that blinks is your name

spelled in slow electric Morse.

I’m wrapping empty boxes with ribbon,

pretending the ghost of your laugh

will land beneath the tree at dawn,

a bright, impossible star.

Carols crescendo, but the couch

still holds the crater of you;

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