在夜晚冰冷的蜂房中，只有

一格小屋被點亮，或者似乎是這樣。

這越南咖啡館，散發著溫柔的光、

香氣擁有，花兒的形狀。

笑語，歡聲，碗筷叮當。

玻璃之外，這座冬的城市

像一架古老的木橋吱呀作響。

一陣狂風疾馳在你我腳下。

窗戶越大，就越踉蹌。

林朝露 譯 

In January

By Ted Kooser

Only one cell in the frozen hive of night

is lit, or so it seems:

this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,

its odors whose shapes are like flowers.

Laughter and talk, the tick of chopsticks.

Beyond the glass, the wintry city

creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.

A great wind rushes under all of us.

The bigger the window, the more it trembles.