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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。