Robert Frost

My Sorrow,when she's here with me,Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be;She loves the bare,the withered tree;She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.She talks and I am fain to list:She's glad the birds are gone away,She's glad her simple worsted grey Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate,deserted trees,The faded earth,the heavy sky,The beauties she so truly sees,She thinks I have no eye for these,And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow,But it were vain to tell her so,And they are better for her praise.

我的憂愁和我同在這里時認為這些秋雨連綿的日子是一年四季最美麗的時日；她愛那些光禿禿的枯樹枝，她常漫步在浸水的濕草地。

她的愉快不容我稍事歇息，她喋喋不休，我不得不聽；她高興那些鳥兒都已離去，她高興她樸素的灰色毛衣，沾滿霧氣，晶亮有如白銀。

那一棵棵寂寞荒涼的樹木，陰沉的天空，褪色的大地，她看得真切、美好的景物，以為我缺乏眼力熟視無睹，總纏著問我由于什么道理。

并不是昨天我才開始懂得喜愛這些白雪降臨之前的貧瘠而又荒涼的11月景色，可是我又何必告訴她這個，經(jīng)她贊美的景色畢竟更美。