As I came to the edge of the woods,
嗯——当我接近那片树林,我听到了,
Thrush music -- hark!
画眉,是画眉的声音;
Now if it was dusk outside,
嗯,要说林外现在已够昏暗,
Inside it was dark.
里面该是漆黑一片;
Too dark in the woods for a bird
不行,不行,这林子里黑咕隆咚,
By sleight of wing
找个好地儿过一夜,
To better its perch for the night,
靠飞,靠飞,嗯——它还真不行,
Though it still could sing.
别看这鸟儿,还能唱两声;
The last of the light of the sun
瞧,太阳,太阳,西去的太阳,
That had died in the west
虽说眼看就没了最后那道光,
Still lived for one song more
可它临走临走,还想听听画眉,
In a thrush's breast.
推心置腹,再唱一首;
Far in the pillared dark
最纵深,画眉发了个回音,
Thrush music went --
冲着遥遥阴暗,那最纵深——
Almost like a call to come in
像啊,太像啦,口口声声,哼,
To the dark and lament.
要跻身,跻身阴郁哀叹人。
But no, I was out for stars;
不参与,我不进林子不参与,
I would not come in.
倒想呆在外面观星去,
I meant not even if asked;
就是说,叫我也不去,呵呵,
And I hadn't been.
再说也没人叫我去 ... ...