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(shí)認(rèn)為這些秋雨連綿的日子是一年四季最美麗的時(shí)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(gè)，經(jīng)她贊美的景色畢竟更美。