[poem] Those Gloriously Sinful Days of Old

Those Gloriously Sinful Days of Old

God made the heaven and the earth and on the seventh day
Languid and no longer loving we drifted into the forest
Existence was so brimful after the rain
Porcini were growing in the horse manure
And so we scoured the forest in search of more
And when we’d found some took them home
And washed them off and soaked them till they were soft and tender
And braised them over a low flame until the juices ran
And simmered them gently in butter
And garlic and parsley
And dressed them with toasted cheese
And slivers of prosciutto

And for a moment the ambience belonged to those gloriously
Sinful days of old psychodramas we sank into like so many sofa
Chairs draped in exquisite lacework covers flower-fringed and
Yellowed with age the myriad assortment of infamously
Perverse eccentricities we kept bottled up inside
And we decanted an ‘87 Bordeaux a capella
But then the complicity of this too was brought to light
And we fell out of touch but not before
We’d carried off those eccentricities
That serve as our tacit understanding

----Translated by Steve Bradbury

美好邪惡往日 翻譯:夏宇