My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
当她与我在一起的时候,
想着秋雨连绵的日子,
我的忧伤,宛如这秋天一样的美丽
她酷爱这光秃秃的枯木朽枝;
她穿梭于湿漉漉的田园驿道。
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
我不能永留在她的欢愉中
我依然地记录着她的叮咛:
她欣喜鸟儿的逃逸,
她倾心灰色的简朴的毛衣
裹着薄雾的银辉。
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
那荒凉的树木,
失血的大地, 沉沦的天空,
都是她眼中的美丽,
她认为我不具慧眼,以至于看不到如此的美景,
而瞋怪于我。
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
在茫茫的大雪来临之前,
并非直到昨天我才开始明了
十一月赤裸裸的爱,
可语言是何等的苍白,
而 (十一月的景色)是对她的最美的赞诵