A house of my own
Not a flat. Not an apartment in back. Not a man's house. Not a daddy's. A house all my own. With my porch and my pillow, my pretty purple petunias. My books and my stories. My two shoes waiting beside the bed. Nobody to shake a stick at. Nobody's garbage to pick up after. Only a house quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.
我自己的房子
不是小公寓.也不是阴面的大公寓。也不是哪个男人的房子.也不是爸爸的房子。是完完全全属于我自己的.那里有我的前廊我的枕头,我漂亮的紫色矮牵牛。我的书和我的故事.我的两只等在床边的鞋.不用和谁去作对。没有别人扔下的垃圾要拾起。只是一所寂静如雪的房子,一个自己归去的空间,洁净如同诗笔未落的纸。