Season of mists and mellow¹ fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring² 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 swell³ the gourd⁴, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel⁵; 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 hasth not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing⁶ wind;

Or on a half-reap’d furrow⁷ sound asleep.

Drowsed with the fumes⁸ of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner⁹ thou dost keep

Steady thy laden¹⁰ head across a brook¹¹;

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 rosy¹² hue¹³;

Then in a wailful¹⁴ choir¹⁵ the small gnats¹⁶ mourn

Among the river shallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat¹⁷ from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering¹⁸ 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。