数杏仁-保罗·策兰

Count the almonds（Paul Celan trans. Michael Hamburger）

Count the almonds, count what was bitter and kept you awake count me in:

I looked for your eye when you opened it, no one was looking at you, I spun that secret thread on which the dew you were thinking slid down to the jugs guarded by words that to no one’s heart found their way.

Only there did you wholly enter the name that is yours, sure-footed stepped into yourself, freely the hammers swung in the bell frame of your silence, the listened for reached you, what is dead put its arm about you also and the three of you walked through the evening.

Make me bitter. Count me among the almonds.