他的声音，比夜色撩人

by Edwin Morgan

No smoke without you, my fire. After you left, your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey. I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal of so much love.

One cigarette in the non-smoker's tray. As the last spire trembles up, a sudden draught blows it winding into my face. Is it smell, is it taste?

You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips. Out with the light. Let the smoke lie back in the dark. Till I hear the very ash sigh down among the flowers of brass. I'll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.

埃德温·摩根

每次抽烟都离不开你，我的火。

你走后，你的香烟在我的烟灰缸里燃着

留下长条状的烟灰，如此安静

我微笑着思忖谁会相信它暗含了那么多的爱。

一支烟，在不抽烟者的烟灰缸里。

当最后螺旋形的烟雾

袅袅上升，突然一股风将它吹在我脸上。

气味？味道？

你回来了，我醉在你烟草气息的唇间。

掏出打火机。

让烟雾在黑暗里休息。

直到我听见那烟灰在黄铜的花朵间叹息。

午夜过后许久，我会呼吸到，你最后的吻。