刘昕蓉／译
　　
　　On the eve of my fortieth birthday
　　I sat on the porch having a smoke
　　when out of the blue a man and a camel
　　happened by. Neither uttered a sound
　　at first, but as they drifted up the street
　　and out of town the two of them began to sing.
　　Yet what they sang is still a mystery to me—
　　the words were indistinct and the tune
　　too ornamental to recall. Into the desert
　　they went and as they went their voices
　　rose as one above the sifting sound
　　of windblown sand. The wonder of their singing,
　　its elusive blend of man and camel seemed
　　an ideal image for all uncommon couples.
　　Was this the night that I had waited for
　　so long? I wanted to believe it was,
　　but, just as they were vanishing, the man
　　and camel ceased to sing, and galloped
　　back to town. They stood before my porch,
　　staring up at me with beady eyes, and said,
　　“You ruined it. You ruined it forever.”
　　
　　四十岁生日的前一天晚上
　　我坐在门廊里吸烟
　　那时有一个人和一只骆驼碰巧经过，
　　身后一片蓝色。起初，他们没有发出
　　一点声音，但当他们漫步到街头
　　又走出城的时候，他们两个却唱起歌来。
　　可是对于我来说，他们的唱词一直是个谜——
　　歌词听不清，而曲调又过于复杂难记。
　　他们走进了沙漠，这时，他们的声音变得高亢
　　穿过了风吹砂粒的犀利。这曼妙的歌声
　　这人与骆驼的奇妙组合，是一幅多么完美的图像
　　适用于每一对不寻常的双人组合
　　我曾为之等候多时的就是这个夜晚吗？
　　我真想相信就是这样，
　　可是，就在他们刚刚要走出视线的时候，那人和骆驼却
　　飞奔回城里。他们站在我的门廊前，
　　睁圆了眼睛瞪着我，说道，
　　“你破坏了一切，你永远地破坏了一切。”