Since his A Mask for Janus (1952), Merwin (1927- ) has published more than forty books of poems, including translations, and eight books of prose. He received the Pulitzer Prize twice: The Carrier of Ladders (1971) and The Shadow of Sirius (2009). He had lived in many places of the world and settled down in Hawaii in late 1970s.

自他的第一本诗集《双面神的面具》（1952）起，默温出版了四十多本诗集，包括近二十本翻译，以及八本散文集。他两次获普利策奖：《搬梯子的人》（1971）和《天狼星的阴影》（2009）。他在全世界很多地方都居住过，自七十年代末在夏威夷定居。

王一笑，笔名一笑，生于中国河北。著有诗集《是时间在唱歌》（2011）、《走过就不会忘记》(2008）。诗歌散见《诗选刊》、《七里海》等刊物。

Wang Yixiao, pen name Yi Xiao. She has published two books of poetry, including Singing of Time (2011) and Never Forget the Paths We've Taken. Her poems have appeared in various magazines, including Poetry Selected in China. She lives in GuangZhou, China.

The Crossroads

十字路口

        I have come to the crossroads twice now. In the end 
there is no way to name, as though to fix forever, the way 
the light can differ totally between one time and the next, 
in the same place. The difference is eternal. I can only 
imagine the future of light as something like the light I 
have known, when in truth it will be totally different, of 
course. If, as it may be a third time.
        The first time there was the green little boy. I came 
alone and when I stopped at the crossroads he emerged from 
the dark woods on my right. The sky was dark to show that 
he was not real yet. An effigy made of moonlight. But he 
knew me, and was expecting me. He would guide me in the 
dark, but he had no features. He needed my eyes. He would 
have to be a sleeve and I would have to be a hand going to 
wear him, groping. The hand of a child.
        The second time there was the red little boy. It was 
daytime to show that he was not real yet, emerging in the 
same place, out of the green foliage. An effigy made of red 
cloth, the same shape as the first. He would take me to 
where I was going, but he had no features. He could not even 
stand up. He needed my life, to go into him like a body into 
an image, and go with my threadbare hands in front of me. 
The life of a child.
        Each time the crossroads, as I later realize, was a day 
of my existence that I could not account for. And I did not 
even know what part of the day I had forgotten, that had let 
all the rest drain out--its number, its name in the week, 
its season, its saint. But each time I entered it and passed 
through, by what apparently was the only way. As a child. 
Even so, if I reach the crossroads another time, I do not 
think that there will be three of me, but only one, again, 
in totally different light. And of an unknown color.  
			

      迄今为止我已经两次到过那些十字路口。最终也无法命名，好似
命名就可以固定光的方向，因它在这一次和下一次之间，在同一地点
可以完全不同。差异恒在。我只能想象光的未来就像某种我知晓的像
光一样的东西，事实上，它完全不同，当然。如果它可能出现第三次。
      第一次那里有个绿色的小男孩。我独自行来，当我停在十字路口，
他从右侧的黑森林浮现。天黑了，显出他的不真实。一个月光雕像。
但是他认识我，并且期盼着我。他将在黑暗中引领我，但是他没有面
容。他需要我的眼睛。他应该是一只袖子而我该是一只穿起他的手，
摸索着。一只孩童的手。
      第二次那里是一个红色的小男孩。那是白天，他尚未变得真实，
在同一地点，从绿叶丛中现身。一个红衣雕像，与第一次同样的形状。
他将带我到欲往之地，但是他没有面容。他甚至不能站立。他需要我
的生命，进入他如同一个身体进入形象，和我已磨得很薄的双手一道
走在我的前面。一个孩童的生命。
      每一次十字路口，就像我后来意识到的，是我无法解释的我的存
在的一天。我甚至不知道那天的哪一部分已被我遗忘，那让所有其他
的流失——它的数目，它在一周内的名字，它的季节，它的圣徒。但是
每一次我进入并穿过它，通过似乎是唯一的一种方式。作为一个孩子。
即便如此，若我再次抵达那些十字路口，我不认为那里会有三个我，
只有一个，再一次，在全然不同的光中。在未知的颜色中。