At Summer's End by John Engels

At Summer\'s End
by John Engels

Early August, and the young butternut
is already dropping its leaves, the nuts
thud and ring on the tin roof,

the squirrels are everywhere.
Such richness! It means something to them
that this tree should seem so eager

to finish its business.
The voice softens, and word becomes air
the moment it is spoken. You finger the limp leaves.

Precisely to the degree that you have loved something:
a house, a woman, a bird, this tree, anything at all,
you are punished by time.

Like the tree,
I take myself by surprise.


夏末

八月初，小白胡桃树
已经在掉叶子，坚果
砰然敲响在锡房顶上，

到处可见小松鼠。
多么富有啊！对它们来说有某种意义
这棵树看上去该是极想

把它的事做完。
声音变得温和，话语一说出来
即成空气。你用手指触摸柔软的树叶。

到你爱某物的准确程度：
一栋房，一个女人，一只鸟，这棵树，竟然任何事，
你被时间惩罚。

如同这棵树，
我对自己感到惊奇。

8/17/2011

"At Summer\'s End" by John Engels, from Sinking Creek. © The Lyons Press, 1998.