White Apples
By Donald Hall
when my father had been dead a week
I woke
with his voice in my ear
I sat up in bed
and held my breath
and stared at the pale closed door
white apples and the taste of stone
if he called again
I would put on my coat and galoshes
白色苹果
父亲去世一星期后
我醒来
他的声音犹在我的耳边响起
从床上坐起
我屏住呼吸
盯着紧闭的苍白色门
白色苹果及石头的滋味
如果他再次喊我
我将穿上外衣和套鞋 |
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