1
哦，我想要保存的一个秘密，像夏云里未落下的雨滴，包在幽静之中，带在身边四处游逛。
哦，在烈日下昏睡的树林底下，河水缓缓流动的地方，我盼望与人低声交谈。
这傍晚的沉默，仿佛在期待足音，你问我为什么落泪。
我不能回答你，我为何泪水涟涟，因为对我来说这也是未破解的秘密。
O that I were stored with a secret, like unshed rain in summer clouds-a secret, folded up in silence, that I could wander away with.
O that I had some one to whisper to, where slow waters lap under trees that doze in the sun.
The hush this evening seems to expect a footfall, and you ask me for the cause of my tears.
I cannot give a reason why I weep, for that is a secret still withheld from me.
2
我一时忘了我自己，所以走来了。
但是请抬起你的双眼，让我知道你眼里是否还有昔日的影子，如同地平线上那失水的一片流云。
如果是我忘了自己，请宽容片刻。
尚未绽开花瓣的玫瑰花，不晓得今年夏天我们缘何忘了采摘鲜花。
晨星同样忐忑不安，默不作声；像往日那样，遮盖你窗户的枝叶，阻挡着晨光。
我一时忘了今非昔比，所以走来了。
我袒露胸怀时，忘了你扭头望着别处，分明是羞躁我。我只记得你发颤的嘴唇上残留的话语；只记得你黑眼睛里渐隐的热情的影子，像暮色中寻巢的鸟儿的翅翼。
我一时忘了你不再想我，所以走来了。
I forgot myself for a moment, and I came.
But raise your eyes, and let me know if there still linger some shadow of other days, like a pale cloud on the horizon that has been robbed of its rain.
For a moment bear with me if I forget myself.
The roses are still in bud; they do not yet know how we neglect to gather flowers this summer.
The morning star has the same palpitating hush; the early light is enmeshed in the branches that over-brow your window, as in those other days.
That times are changed I forget for a little, and have come.
I forget if you ever shamed me by looking away when I bared my heart.
I only remember the words that stranded on the tremor of your lips; I remember in your dark eyes sweeping shadows of passion, like the wings of a home-seeking bird in the dusk.
I forget that you do not remember, and I come.
3
我仍记得那天的情景。
瓢泼大雨渐渐减弱为时下时歇的小雨，刚要静息，又被一阵风吹得亢奋起来。
我拿起乐器，心不在焉地弹拨弦丝，不知不觉，乐曲就有了风暴的疯狂旋律。
我看见她放下手里的针线活儿，站在我的门口片刻，步履迟缓地踅了回去。少顷，又走回来，站在门外，斜靠着墙壁，最后缓缓走进屋坐下。她低着头，默默地做着针线活儿；不一会儿便停住手，透过雨帘，怔怔地望着窗外影影绰绰的树木。
历历在目的，只有这段时光，只有这交织着树影、乐音和沉默的雨水淋湿的中午。
I remember the day.
The heavy shower of rain is slackening into fitful pauses,renewed gusts of wind startle it from a first lull.
I take up my instrument. Idly I touch the strings, till,without my knowing, the music borrows the mad cadence of that storm.
I see her figure as she steals from her work, stops at my door, and retreats with hesitating steps. She comes again, stands outside leaning against the wall, then slowly enters the room and sits down. With head bent, she plies her needle in silence; but soon stops her work, and looks out of the window through the rain at the blurred line of trees.
Only this-one hour of a rainy noon filled with shadows and song and silence.
4
油菜花盛开的三月，我曾远望这样的景色——一线河水缓缓地流动，沙滩灰暗，河边的一条土路揣着农田的友情，走进村庄的心田。
我力图把悠闲的风声和过往的船只的桨声，融入诗韵。
我心里感到惊奇，这站在我面前的大千世界，是多么朴素，这偶尔相遇的永恒的陌生人，让我心里充满多么亲切和温馨的安适。
I have looked on this picture in many a month of March when the mustard is in bloom-this lazy line of the water and the grey of the sand beyond, the rough path along the river-bank carrying the comradeship of the field into the heart of the village.
I have tried to capture in rhyme the idle whistle of the wind,the beat of the oar-strokes from a passing boat.
I have wondered in my mind how simply it stands before me,this great world,with what fond and familiar ease it fills my heart, this encounter with the Eternal Stranger.
5
在这座昏睡的村庄里，中午静得仿佛是阳光灿烂的午夜，我的假期已过完了。
我四岁的小女儿，早晨一直跟在我身后，从这间屋子走到另一间屋子，表情严肃，默默地看着我收拾行李，末了她乏了，背靠着门框坐着，出奇的安静，自言自语地说：“爸爸，你不能走！”
这会儿已是吃午饭的时候，睡意像往日一样侵袭她的身子，可她妈妈却把她忘了，这孩子很不愉快，连句抱怨的话也懒得说了。
最后，当我朝她伸出双臂和她道别时，她没有挪动身子，神色忧郁地看着我说；“爸爸，你不能走！”
这句话把我逗得笑出了眼泪，我心想，这小孩不用别的手段，仅用“爸爸，你不能走！”这几个字，竟敢与充斥生活需求的宏大世界相对抗！
At the sleepy village the noon was still like a sunny midnight when my holidays came to their end.
My little girl of four had followed me all the morning from room to room,watching my preparations in grave silence, till, wearied, she sat by the doorpost strangely quiet, murmuring to herself: "Father must not go!"
This was the meal-hour, when sleep daily overcame her, but her mother had forgotten her and the child was too unhappy to complain.
At last, when I stretched out my arms to her to say farewell, she never moved, but sadly looking at me said: "Father, you must not go!"
And it amused me to tears to think how this little child dared to fight the giant world of necessity with no other resource than those few words,"Father, you must not go!"
6
早晨，绿草上露珠闪闪发光时，你走过来推一下我的秋千，可我正抹含笑的泪水，没有认出你。
之后是四月一个阳光灿烂的中午，我想，你会叫我跟着你走。
但当我寻找你的面孔时，举着鲜花的一群人在我们中间走过，男男女女迎着南风放声歌唱。
每天我在你身边的路上走过，没有引起你的注意。
但在夹竹桃花淡淡的芳香飘散的日子，当清风流连于哀怨的棕榈树叶中间时，我会站在你面前，心中疑惑：你是不是成了我的陌生人。
In the morning, when the dew glistened upon the grass, you came and gave a push to my swing; but, sweeping from smiles to tears, I did not know you.
Then came April's noon of gorgeous light, and I think you beckoned me to follow you.
But when I sought your face, there passed between us the procession of flowers, and men and women flinging their songs to the south wind.
Daily I passed you unheeded on the road.
But on some days full of the faint smell of oleanders, when the wind was wilful among complaining palm leaves, I would stand before you wondering if you ever had been a stranger to me.
7
冬天过去，白天渐渐长了。阳光下，我的狗撒野般地和受宠的小鹿嬉戏。
前往集市的一群人，聚集在树篱边，笑着看这两个游伴操完全不同的语言，尽力表达情爱。
空气中洋溢着春意，新叶像火苗似的抖动着。当小鹿受惊，低下脖子瞧自己游移的身影，或竖起耳朵倾听风中的细语时，它乌黑的眼里舞动着光亮。
吹拂的和风，以及四月的天空中弥散的微光和树木的飒飒声中，飘来一则信息。当第一朵鲜花绽开花瓣，爱情离开它熟知的一切，去寻觅不熟悉的一切时，它歌唱世上青春的第一阵痛楚。
一天下午，阿姆洛吉树林里，阳光悄然爱抚的绿荫，越发端庄而柔美，小鹿撒腿飞奔，像眷恋死亡的流星。
天色渐黑，家家点亮了油灯；天上星星闪现，夜色降临田野，可小鹿再没有回来。
我的狗哀鸣着朝我跑来，忧伤的眼里含着疑问，仿佛在对我说：“我不明白。”
但谁会明白呢？
Days were drawing out as the winter ended, and, in the sun, my dog played in his wild way with the pet deer.
The crowd going to the market gathered by the fence, and laughed to see the love of these playmates struggle with languages so dissimilar.
The spring was in the air, and the young leaves fluttered like flames. A gleam danced in the deer's dark eyes when she started, bent her neck at the movement of her own shadow, or raised her ears to listen to some whisper in the wind.
The message comes floating with the errant breeze, with the rustle and glimmer abroad in the April sky. It sings of the first ache of youth in the world, when the first flower broke from the bud, and love went forth seeking that which it knew not, leaving all it had known.
And one afternoon, when among the amlak trees the shadow grew grave and sweet with the furtive caress of light, the deer set off to run like a meteor in love with death.
It grew dark, and lamps were lighted in the house; the stars came out and night was upon the fields, but the deer never came back.
My dog ran up to me whining, questioning me with his piteous eyes which seemed to say: "I do not understand!"
But who does ever understand?
……
