我在參加派對回家的路上，

十點三十分，一個漆黑的冬夜，沒有星星，

幾朵雪花飄落在

我的前燈的手臂上，它們正

摸索著黑暗的背部，

拽出裡面的東西，一個信箱，另一個，

一只搬運寶石的貓。在一個小鎮的

邊緣，我路過了四顆星星，它們放在

沒有足跡的雪地上在一個寒冷的古老的

教堂墓地裡。它們當然是那些

太陽能燈，用來標記路徑，

盡管沒有人行走在它們中間

在那個時辰。它們構成了唯一

我所能看見的星座，而盡管

死者仰面躺著，也可以

抬頭看假如他們願意的話，

但他們的眼睛是閉著的，沒有一個靈魂

正從中找出任何意義。

（張潔 譯）

The Constellation

by Ted Kooser

I was on my way home from a party,

ten-thirty, a dark winter night, no stars,

a few snowflakes drifting down over

the arms of my headlights, which were

searching the back of the darkness,

pulling things out, a mailbox, another,

a cat carrying sparklers. At the edge

of a town, I passed four stars, placed

on the untracked snow in a cold old

churchyard. They were of course those

solar-powered lights for marking paths,

though no one walked among them

at that hour. They made up the only

constellation I could see, and though

the dead lay on their backs, and might

have looked up if they wanted to,

their eyes were closed, and not a soul

was finding any meaning in it.

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