老乡好,我可以叫你小树吗?我每次看见你的名字都像看见一首诗:)贴一首拉金的诗:)
《树》
树开始长出叶子
象是一些事几乎要被道出;
新芽松弛舒展,
它们的绿是一种忧愁。
是否他们再次新生
而我们老去?不,他们也在死去,
他们年复一年换新颜的把戏
被写入木纹的年轮。
那些不安的城堡却仍然
在每年五月熟透的浓密中翻滚。
去年死了,他们像是要说,
开始更新,更新,更新吧。
The Trees
-Philips Larkin
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.