Be Here First
Ellen Doré Watson

I don't know my trees but I know my trees.
Their angling for（谋取） what has spurned（唾弃，冷落） them;
their spitting and drooling（流口水） , the battered（破旧的，磨损的）

crocuses（番红花） at their feet. We share the roofline,
the cesspool（污水坑，粪坑） , I'm responsible for all that salt.
From my stone stoop（弯腰，屈背） I watch the lilac's sun-

starved horizontal heroics（夸张的言行） , the still-naked
redbud shrugging off（摆脱，抖去） bitty unlit lights.
Neglect leans back on the lawn chair.

Must we dislike ourselves to change?
Sick of every other part of me, I approve
my hand slobbered（流口水） by the horse's jawing

a hacked（生气） apple. I say fear is behind our
everything. Or brazenness（厚颜无耻） , which is just
a jacket fear puts on. The mare's sudden

stillness says look: fox. The world as ever
offering now distraction, now danger.
But no. How much I owe the trees, the hissing（蔑视，嘶嘶声）

raccoon（浣熊） outsmarting my heart. The shed
moving towards ruin in its own slow time.
There's something sprouting（发芽） on the kitchen

table that's not supposed to. Everything
eager, rude and alive. Not just the knotweed（紫菀科植物）
but the crows' hideous（可怕的，丑恶的） vowels; buds blasted

open or whipped（鞭打，挥动） young off the tree. Take your
pick: the ridge hurtling（急飞，猛掷） for the last rag of snow
or simply lifting off with the first smack of（带有……的味道） dawn.