灵魂有时附体，
不会时刻在身，
须臾不离。
它也许会游于身外，
日复一日
年复一年。
有时
它会为童年的恐惧和狂喜
驻足片刻，
有时会因我们对年华已逝的讶异
稍作停留。
它很少出手，
看着我们艰于应对：
挪家具，
搬行李，
穿着夹脚的鞋赶路。
它常常离身，
当我们有肉要剁，
有表格要填之时。
一千次的谈话，
它只参与一次——
还嫌多余，
因为它偏爱沉默。
当我们的肉体由麻痛变为剧痛，
它便悄然开溜。
它爱挑剔，
不喜欢我们跻身人群、争名逐利，
讨厌我们惯使诡计。
在它眼里，
喜忧无甚差别，
唯等喜忧交会，
方才附身效劳。
它并不可靠，
除非我们对万事都不确信，
却对万物充满好奇。
对于实物，
它偏爱带钟摆的时钟，还有
即便无人端详
也不辍劳作的镜子。
它不自报家门，
也不言下次何时离身，
尽管对这类问题，
它已不觉新鲜。
我们需要灵魂。
可很明显，
它也需要我们——
因着某个缘由。
We have a soul at times.
No one's got it non-stop,
for keeps.
Day after day,
year after year
may pass without it.
Sometimes
it will settle for awhile
only in childhood's fears and raptures.
Sometimes only in astonishment
that we are old.
It rarely lends a hand
in uphill tasks,
like moving furniture,
or lifting luggage,
or going miles in shoes that pinch.
It usually steps out
whenever meat needs chopping
or forms have to be filled.
For every thousand conversations
it participates in one,
if even that,
since it prefers silence.
Just when our body goes from ache to pain,
it slips off-duty.
It's picky:
it doesn't like seeing us in crowds,
our hustling for a dubious advantage
and creaky machinations make it sick.
Joy and sorrow
aren't two different feelings for it.
It attends us
only when the two are joined.
We can count on it
when we're sure of nothing
and curious about everything.
Among the material objects
it favors clocks with pendulums
and mirrors, which keep on working
even when no one is looking.
It won't say where it comes from
or when it's taking off again,
though it's clearly expecting such questions.
We need it
but apparently
it needs us
for some reason too.