The Red Lantern at the Canyon's Throat

I hung a red lantern in the canyon’s throat,

我于峡谷咽喉，悬起一盏红灯笼

It hung unshaken, tasting of rust and bone

它稳立风中，带着铁锈与骨殖的腥气

It bade the wandering vine tendrils pause

勒令蔓生的藤须，就此停驻

And arrest their climb, mid-air, half-worn

止住攀爬的妄念，悬在半空，蔫颓无力

Shadows pooled around its spur-scarred iron frame

阴影在它马刺刻痕的铁骨周遭，聚成寒潭

Learned a sharp radius, no more formless,

终于有了清晰轮廓，不复混沌无依

The lantern glowed, faint as a dying campfire’s flame

灯笼微光闪烁，如濒熄的篝火，明灭摇曳

And cast a deliberate, rough-hewn order

投下一道审慎的、以血肉淬成的粗砺秩序

It claimed the night’s wild unrest,

它镇住了黑夜的狂野躁动

The lantern: glass, cold iron, crimson of a cough’s last press

这灯笼：玻璃、冷铁，是咳血时咳出的那抹猩红

It bore no leaf, no dew, no wing’s soft tremor

它无叶，无露，无振翅的轻柔颤栗

Like nothing else in the canyon’s dream—

与峡谷梦境里的万物，都格格不入

But it held a space for a man to flee west

却为一个奔往新生的人，让出向西的坦途