My father was too weak to parry the blade 我的父亲是太弱，无法招架刀片

as death's scythe swept through the house one night 死亡的镰刀在屋里一晚上扫

as we were busy doing other things, 因为我们忙着做其他的事情，

dust filled his mouth and stopped his breath, 灰尘弥漫了他的嘴，并停止他的呼吸，

and darkness took his soul in this familiar place... 与黑暗了他的灵魂在这个熟悉的地方...

   

His body, wasted by the sickness, 他的身体，由疾病浪费，

his spirit weary from the battle, 他的精神从战斗疲惫，

he spoke to me, forever his son, 他对我说话，永远的儿子，

of all things save death: 万物救死

I longed to face it with him, 我渴望和他一起面对它，

but seeing his fear, 但看到他的恐惧，

I feared to speak of it. 我怕说了吧。

   

And though we both saw death's dark irresistable form 虽然我们都看到了死亡的黑暗不可抗拒的形式

in the far corner, 在遥远的角落，

we talked instead of evening shadows 我们谈到晚上的阴影，而不是

on bedroom walls. 在卧室的墙上。

   

And so it went. 就这样去了。

There were no proud and profound last words, 目前还没有骄傲和深刻的遗言，

no bright ringing final moment of clarity. 无亮点响起清晰的最终时刻。

He just died. 他刚刚去世。

We kissed his still warm face 我们亲吻着他还在温暖的脸

and promised forever... 并承诺永远...

   

The cold wind blew through the trees in my father's yard, 通过我父亲的院子里树上的冷风吹，

and I looked for meaning. 我找了意义。