| 标题 | 秋颂 |
| 内容 | Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun, Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. 雾气洋溢、果实圆熟的秋， 你和成熟的太阳成为友伴; 你们密谋用累累的珠球， 缀满茅屋檐下的葡萄藤蔓; 使屋前的老树背负着苹果， 让熟味透进果实的心中， 使葫芦胀大，鼓起了榛子壳， 好塞进甜核;又为了蜜蜂 一次一次开放过迟的花朵， 使它们以为日子将永远暖和， 因为夏季早填满它们的粘巢。 Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair sort-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Dows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers. And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. 谁不经常看见你伴着谷仓? 在田野里也可以把你找到， 弥有时随意坐在打麦场上， 让发丝随着簸谷的风轻飘; 有时候，为罂粟花香所沉迷， 你倒卧在收割一半的田垄， 让镰刀歇在下一畦的花旁; 或者.像拾穗人越过小溪， 你昂首背着谷袋，投下倒影， 或者就在榨果架下坐几点钟， 你耐心地瞧着徐徐滴下的酒浆。 Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a waiful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles form a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. 啊.春日的歌哪里去了? 但不要想这些吧，你也有你的音乐 当波状的云把将逝的一天映照， 以胭红抹上残梗散碎的田野， 这时啊，河柳下的一群小飞虫 就同奏哀音，它们忽而飞高， 忽而下落，随着微风的起灭; 篱下的蟋蟀在歌唱，在园中 红胸的知更鸟就群起呼哨; 而群羊在山圈里高声默默咩叫; 丛飞的燕子在天空呢喃不歇。 |
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