Billy Collins

Tonight the moon is a cracker,

with a bite out of it

floating in the night,

and in a week or so

according to the calendar

it will probably look

like a silver football,

and nine,maybe ten days ago

it reminded me of a thin bright claw.

But eventually—

by the end of the month,

I reckon—

it will waste away

to nothing,

nothing but stars in the sky,

and I will have a few nights

to myself,

a little time to rest my jittery pen.

今晚的月亮是块

被咬掉一口的薄脆饼干

飘飘荡荡浮在夜天，

按照日历

约莫一周时间

它看似大概会

像个银色的橄榄球，

而九天,或许十天之前

它使我想起一个薄明的蟹钳。

可渐渐地——

到这个月底

我推断——

它将消瘦至

身影全无，

天上只留繁星点点，

而对我自己来说，

会有几个夜晚

让我极度紧张的笔得以休息。