一簇野花

罗伯特·弗罗斯特

The Tuft of Flowers

Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)

那天我去翻草，黎明之前

他已将挂着露珠的草地割完。

在我还未来看这齐刷刷景色时，

让镰刀刃锃亮的露水已消失。

为找他，小树林那边我去过，

在风中探听他的磨刀霍霍。

但他已经踏上了行程，草已割毕，

而我定是孤自一人，与他无异，

“万事各有安排，”我心中说，

“无论在一起，还是分开工作。”

但刚说完，一只茫然的蝴蝶，

扇着无声的翅膀从我身旁飞掠，

凭着昨晚朦胧的记忆搜寻，

安睡中的鲜花，昨日的欢欣。

一旦注意到它转呀转呀飞，

就看见地上有一些鲜花憔悴。

后来它飞远方身影看不见，

可又翅膀颤抖着回到我身边。

我想，问它也不会有答案，

还不如下地翻草，吹风晾干，

但蝶儿回转身，让我留意到，

溪水岸一丛高高的花草，

在芦苇摇荡的小河畔，

有一簇镰刀留下的摇曳花团。

我离开原地去探一个分晓，

到跟前认出是红花山桃。

这些花儿朝露中割草人也爱，

并非为我们留下，是愿它们盛开，

他不会为我们的喜好而考虑，

是为了黎明中细浪轻拍的欢愉。

不管怎么说，在晨光里，

蝴蝶与我都收到了一个信息，

这一来我听到周围方醒的小鸟，

听到了割草人对大地耳语的镰刀，

感觉有个亲人的神灵陪伴，

自此刻起不再是独自把活干，

有他我真高兴，干起活来有人帮助，

累了，一起在晌午找个歇凉处，

如梦一般，与他亲切地交谈，

他的思想我大为佩服赞叹。

“人们劳动合作，”我心中对他讲，

“无论是一起干，还是各自忙。”

I went to turn the grass once after one

Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen

Before I came to view the levelled scene.

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;

I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,

And I must be, as he had been,—alone,

"As all must be," I said within my heart,

"Whether they work together or apart."

But as I said it, swift there passed me by

On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly,

Seeking with memories grown dim over night

Some resting flower of yesterday's delight.

And once I marked his flight go round and round,

As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

And then he flew as far as eye could see,

And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

I thought of questions that have no reply,

And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

But he turned first, and led my eye to look

At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared

Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

I left my place to know them by their name,

Finding them butterfly-weed when I came.

The mower in the dew had loved them thus,

By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him,

But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

The butterfly and I had lit upon,

Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

That made me hear the wakening birds around,

And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;

So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,

And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech

With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

"Men work together," I told him from the heart,

"Whether they work together or apart."

一簇野花

罗伯特·弗罗斯特

The Tuft of Flowers

Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)

那天我去翻草，黎明之前

他已将挂着露珠的麦子收割完。

在我还未来看这齐刷刷景色时，

让镰刀刃锃亮的露水已消失。

为找他，小树林那边我去过，

在风中探听他的磨刀霍霍。

但他已经踏上了行程，麦子收毕，

而我定是孤自一人，与他无异，

“万事各有安排，”我心中说，

“无论在一起，还是分开工作。”

但刚说完，一只茫然的蝴蝶，

扇着无声的翅膀从我身旁飞掠，

凭着昨晚朦胧的记忆搜寻，

安睡中的鲜花，昨日的欢欣。

一旦注意到它转呀转呀飞，

就看见地上有一些鲜花憔悴。

后来它飞远方身影看不见，

可又翅膀颤抖着回到我身边。

我想，问它也不会有答案，

还不如下地翻草，吹风晾干，

但蝶儿回转身，让我留意到，

溪水岸一丛高高的花草，

在收割过芦苇的小河畔，

镰刀留下的摇曳花团。

我离开原地去探一个分晓，

到跟前认出是红花山桃。

这些花儿朝露中割麦人也爱，

并非为我们留下，是愿它们盛开，

他不会为我们的喜好而考虑，

是为了黎明中细浪轻拍的欢愉。

不管怎么说，在晨光里，

蝴蝶与我都收到了一个信息，

这一来我听到周围方醒的小鸟，

听到了收麦人对大地耳语的镰刀，

感觉有个亲人的神灵陪伴，

自此刻起不再是独自把活干，

有他我真高兴，干起活来有人帮助，

累了，一起在晌午找个歇凉处，

如梦一般，与他亲切地交谈，

他的思想我大为佩服赞叹。

“人们劳动合作，”我心中对他讲，

“无论是一起干，还是各自忙。”

I went to turn the grass once after one

Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen

Before I came to view the levelled scene.

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;

I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,

And I must be, as he had been,—alone,

"As all must be," I said within my heart,

"Whether they work together or apart."

But as I said it, swift there passed me by

On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly,

Seeking with memories grown dim over night

Some resting flower of yesterday's delight.

And once I marked his flight go round and round,

As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

And then he flew as far as eye could see,

And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

I thought of questions that have no reply,

And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

But he turned first, and led my eye to look

At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared

Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

I left my place to know them by their name,

Finding them butterfly-weed when I came.

The mower in the dew had loved them thus,

By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him,

But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

The butterfly and I had lit upon,

Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

That made me hear the wakening birds around,

And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;

So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,

And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech

With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

"Men work together," I told him from the heart,

"Whether they work together or apart."