她给我寄来蓝松鸦、霜、星星,以及此刻正升起在贫瘠山巔的秋月的消息。她轻描淡写地提及寒冷、痛苦,并罗列出已经失去的事物。读到这里,我的生活显得艰难而缓慢,我读到生机勃勃的瓜堆在门边,篮子里装满茴香、迷迭香和莳萝,而所有无法被采集,或隐藏在叶子中的那些,她只能任其变黑并落下。 She sent me the news of the blue jays, creams, stars, and the moonrise now rising above the barren hills. She casually refers to the cold, the pain, and lists the things that have been lost. Read here, my life seemed difficult and slow, I read vibrant potatoes piled at the door, the basket filled with fennel, rosemary and dill, and all can not be collected, or hidden in the leaves of those She can only let it darken and fall.