张洁 译
我喜欢看一个老人把一块三明治切成两半，
也许就是普通的冷烤牛肉加全麦面包，
没有腌菜或洋葱，把前臂牢牢地放在餐桌边缘
以使他颤抖的手保持稳定，
两只手一起用，左手在合适的位置按住三明治，
右手稳稳地切，角对角，
透过眼镜观察他的进展，就在
之前，他用餐巾擦净了眼镜，然后看着他举起一半
放到他请服务生拿来的那个额外的盘子上，
然后等着，把那个盘子递给他的妻子
当她慢慢地展开她的餐巾，放好她的勺子，
她的餐刀，和她的餐叉，放在它们合适的位置，
然后把浆过的白色餐巾在她的膝上抚平
然后迎着他的目光把两只苍老的手一起伸向他时。
Splitting an Order
by TED KOOSER
From Splitting an Order. Copper Canyon Press, 2014.
I like to watch an old man cutting a sandwich in half,
maybe an ordinary cold roast beef on whole wheat bread,
no pickles or onion, keeping his shaky hands steady
by placing his forearms firm on the edge of the table
and using both hands, the left to hold the sandwich in place,
and the right to cut it surely, corner to corner,
observing his progress through glasses that moments before
he wiped with his napkin, and then to see him lift half
onto the extra plate that he asked the server to bring,
and then to wait, offering the plate to his wife
while she slowly unrolls her napkin and places her spoon,
her knife, and her fork in their proper places,
then smooths the starched white napkin over her knees
and meets his eyes and holds out both old hands to him.
