有過一種時刻，
作為一個孩子，
當我穿上外套的時候
我想我的手
不會成功穿過去
到另一邊，

或者會伸出來
鉤子，或爪子，
變成畸形在經過
黑暗的袖子時。

這種疑惑教會我
對離去的時刻
心存敬畏;
我緊握我的袖口
投入通道，

知道我可能是
不同的在另一個
末端。

如果我長大後不再有
我對變形的
敬畏，
我想我也會長大到不再擁有
它的恩典，收縮

進我身體的側邊
一隻殘疾的手臂，
一種生命無法伸及，
無法抓牢。

（張潔 譯）

PUTTING MY COAT ON
by Ted Kooser

There was a moment,
as a child,
when I put on my coat
and thought my hand
would not come through
on the other side,

or would come out
a hook, or claw,
deformed in transit
through the dark sleeve.

That doubt has taught me
awe for moments
of going out;
I clutch my cuff
and plunge through passage,

knowing I may be
different at the other
end.

If I outgrew
my fear of
metamorphosis,
I think I'd outgrow
its grace, shrink

into my side
an invalid arm,
a life with no reach,
and no grasp.