在哈爾蓋仰望星空
 
 
 有一種神秘你無法駕馭
 你只能充當旁觀者的角色
 聽憑那神秘的力量
 從遙遠的地方發出信號
 射出光來，穿透你的心
 像今夜，在哈爾蓋
 在這個遠離城市的荒涼的
 地方，在這青藏高原上的
 一個蠶豆般大小的火車站旁
 我抬起頭來眺望星空
 這時河漢無聲，鳥翼稀薄
 青草向群星瘋狂地生長
 馬群忘記了飛翔
 風吹著空曠的夜也吹著我
 風吹著未來也吹著過去
 我成為某個人，某間
 點著油燈的陋室
 而這陋室冰涼的屋頂
 被群星的億萬隻腳踩成祭壇
 我像一個領取聖餐的孩子
 放大了膽子，但屏住呼吸

 
 LOOKING UP AT A STARRY
 SKY IN HA’ERGAI
 
 
 There is a mystery you cannot rein in
 you can only play the part of a bystander
 obeying the power of the mystery
 sending its signal from a distant place
 launching light that pierces your heart
 like tonight at Ha’ergai
 this bleak place far from
 cities, on the Tibetan high plateau
 beside a train station small as a broad bean
 I raise my head to gaze at the starry sky
 at this moment the Milky Way silent, the wings of birds few
 the grass grows green and wild toward the stars
 the birds forget to fly
 the wind blows the wide open night and me too
 the wind blows future and past too
 I become a being, a simple room
 lit by an oil lamp
 the cold rooftop of the room
 becomes the altar trampled under billions of stars
 like a child I am receiving Holy Communion
 acting brave, but my breath held

(Tr. by Michael M. Day)