We knew so little in those days, as little as now, I suppose about healing those hurts: even the women, in their best dresses, with beads and sequins sewn on the bodices, even in lipstick and mascara, their hair aflow, could only stand wringing their hands, begging for peace, while father and son, like thugs, like thieves, like Romans, simmered and hissed and hated, inflicting sorrows that endured, the worst anyway,
我们曾经知道的太少 如同我们的年龄 伤痛如何愈合？ 甚至妇女们，穿上他们最好的服装 与珠和紧身衣缝亮片， 即使在口红，睫毛膏， 与他们飘动的头发 她们的手却泄漏了秘密，忧心忡忡 祈求和谐 他们的丈夫与儿子，如同暴徒 盗贼，不切实际的 引来仇恨，妒怨 造成痛苦的经历， 无论生活如何糟糕