他們兩人非常確定
彼此的激情不過碰巧被點燃。
這深信不疑是多麼美妙啊，
但更美妙的是心中的疑團。
They’re both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
既然素昧平生，他們肯定
彼此之間從未有過交集。
可是從街上、樓梯、大廳裡傳來了隻字片語——
或許，他們的擦肩，已發生過千千萬萬遍？
Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways—
perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?
我想問他們 難道不記得嗎——
在一個旋轉門裡
面對面的那個瞬間？
或是擁擠人群中一句低低的道歉？
電話那頭戛然而止的“你打錯了”？
但我知道答案，
不，他們沒有印象。
I want to ask them
if they don’t remember —
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver? —
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember.
他們會覺得難以置信
因為緣分已經戲弄了他們
這麼多年。
They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.
但緣分還未
變成他們的命運，
它將兩人一次次拉近，一次次驅離，
擋住前行的路，
扼住開懷的笑，
而後，跳到一旁。
Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.
四周滿是跡象和信號，
即便他們視而不見。
或許是三年以前吧
或許是上個星期二
有那麼一片樹葉
從我的肩，飄到了你的肩？
There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn’t read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
什麼東西掉落地上，又被撿起。
誰知道呢？也許是消失進
童年深處那叢灌木裡的圓球？
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood’s thicket?
門上的把手和電鈴
前面的人剛碰過
後面的人又觸摸。
那些行李箱，被檢查完畢後並著排擺放。
There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
也許某個晚上，他們做了同樣的夢
清晨時卻已記憶朦朧。
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.
所有的開始
都不過是續集而已，
而這部無始無終的書
卻總是從中間被翻起。
Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.
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