WAVE
For months I'd moved across the open water
Like a wheel under its skin,a frictionless
and by then almost wholly abstract matter
with nothing in my head beyond the bliss 
of my own breaking: how the long foreshore 
would hear my full confession ,and I'd drain
into the shale till I was filtered  pure.
There was no way to tell on that bare plain
but I felt my power run down with the miles
and by the time I saw the scattered sails,
the painted front and children on the pier
I was no more than a fold in her blue gown
and knew I was already in the clear.
I hit the beach and swept away the town.


-----Don Paterson
作者是苏格兰诗人音乐人。Rain是他最新的一本诗集，并获得'Forward Prize for best collection.'
登载在3月3日这一期New Yorker上面。
我读了挺感动，想把它翻译成中文，但又怕失去那一份感动就抄在这里，如果有谁读了也喜欢，就好了。