Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even ye thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice a mystery;

The same whom in my schoolboy days
I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen.

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.

O blessed Bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, faery place;
That is fit home for thee!

致布谷鸟

威廉华•兹华斯

啊，快乐的新客！
听到你啭鸣，我满怀喜悦；
啊，布谷，是否称你为鸟？
或为妙音，回荡清越？

当我躺在草地上，
听到你的二重唱：
似从这山传到那山，
似在近旁，又在远方。

你的歌声在山谷回荡，
伴着繁华和阳光；
你还把我带到
追忆往事的幻想。

我再三地欢迎
你是阳春的先行。
在我眼中，你可不是鸟，
而是无形的神奇之音。

想当年我还是小学生，
曾倾听同样的鸣声；
我千方百计寻找，
从天上到丛林。

我时常漫游，为了找你，
踩着草地，穿过密林；
如今仍在期待，虽不眼见，
你仍是希望，是恋情。

此刻我躺在平原，
你的歌声仍能听见。
我专心谛听，
直到召回金色的童年。

我们栖息的大地
又显得空灵而神奇；
这是你安家的福地，
啊， 快乐的鸟儿，祝福你！

==================================
Spring

By Thomas Nashe

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! the sweet Spring!

春
托马斯•纳什

春，甘美之春，一年之中的尧舜，
处处都有花树，都有女儿环舞，
微寒但觉清和，佳禽争着唱歌，
啁啁，啾啾，哥哥，割麦、插一禾！

榆柳呀山楂，打扮着田舍人家，
羊羔嬉游，牧笛儿整日在吹奏，
百鸟总在和鸣，一片悠扬声韵，
啁啁，啾啾，哥哥，割麦、插一禾！

郊原荡漾香风，雏菊吻人脚踵，
情侣作对成双，老妪坐晒阳光，
走向任何通衢，都有歌声悦耳，
啁啁，啾啾，哥哥，割麦、插一禾！
春！甘美之春！

========================================
Lilacs,
False blue, white, purple,
Color of lilac,
Your great puffs of flowers
Are everywhere in this my New England.
Among your heart-shaped leaves
Orange orioles5 hop like music-box birds6 and sing
Their little weak soft songs;
In the crooks of your branches
The bright eyes of song sparrows sitting on spotted egg
Peer9 restlessly through the light and shadow
Of all springs.

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