By Robert Frost /Tr. By Lily

诗/罗伯特·弗罗斯特   译/黎历

Design 

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

设计

我发现一个笑靥如花的蜘蛛，肥胖雪白

在一株白色万灵药花上，举起一只飞蛾

犹如一匹僵硬的白绸缎料-

将死亡和颓丧的各种字符混合

正准备开启一个清晨

像女巫的肉汤配料 -

一只随雪降落的蜘蛛，一朵似泡沫的花儿

飞行时翅膀硬如纸制的风筝

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.

这样的花为何呈白色

路边忧郁又无辜的万灵药？

什么将同缘的蜘蛛带向那高度

然后又转向那黑夜里的白蛾？

不是别的 正是令人惊骇的黑暗设计？ -

如果设计也统治这么微小的事物

Hyla Brook 

By June our brook's run out of song and speed.
Sought for much after that, it will be found
Either to have gone groping underground
(And taken with it all the Hyla breed
That shouted in the mist a month ago,
Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)--
Or flourished and come up in jewel-weed,
Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent
Even against the way its waters went.
Its bed is left a faded paper sheet
Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat--
A brook to none but who remember long.
This as it will be seen is other far
Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song.
We love the things we love for what they are.

雨蛙溪

六月我们的小溪不再歌唱奔流

多方寻找  才发现

它要么已深入地下探索

（而且已带走所有的雨蛙类

其一月前还在雾中呱噪

宛如幽灵之雪里的雪橇铃声 -

它要么蓬勃扩展  流向出类拔萃的杂草

以及枯黄弯折的悲衰叶类植物

甚至违反它的水域流式

河床只剩一薄层褪色的

又被热气粘在一起的枯叶--

无属之溪 何人曾铭记久长

它只会被视为远非能被歌声

扬名天下之溪流们的另类

我们热爱事物 但只爱其真面目