My mother held my hand. My father didn’t.A man with an Irish accent held up the world.It was bread and he said it was the world,it was bread and no one had risen it.What was custom, I believed was law.No one minded if a girl stayed quiet, but the waypeople stood together made me want to leave.The story about the friends who lost their favoriteperson got sad at the end. They didn’ttalk about the dead man for the whole summer.The organ meant that doors could shut.When women sang, everyone loved them.I remember all the hungers I said no to,all the days we weren’t rewarded with food,and the structure of the exchange in spoken languagewanting begins but refusal keeps open.If you don’t want one thing you want another.The fuchsia fell out of the hanging pot at homethe whole time we were in that building.We cultivated it like that on purpose.I knew I could take a flower and not get caughtas soon as I grew tall enough to reach it.For some transgressions, punishment is tiny.

中文翻译：

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教堂

我妈妈握住我的手。我父亲没有。一个带有爱尔兰口音的男人举起了世界。这是面包，他说这是世界，这是面包，没有人把它举起来。我习惯的是法律，我相信这是法律。没人介意如果一个女孩保持安静，但人们站在一起的方式让我想离开。关于失去亲人的朋友的故事最后感到难过。他们整个夏天都没有谈论死者，管风琴意味着门可以关上，当女人唱歌时，每个人都爱着他们。我记得所有的饥饿我都没有说过 到了所有的日子，我们都没有得到食物的报酬，开始进行口头交流，但拒绝的气氛不断。如果您不想要一件事，您想要另一件事。紫红色从家里的吊锅里掉了下来。我们一直都在那栋大楼里。我们故意像这样种植它。我知道我可以长成一朵花就可以拿起来而不被抓到。对于某些违法行为，惩罚很小。