There Will Come Soft Rain
by Sara Teasdale
There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
细雨将至
萨拉.蒂丝黛尔
译/行路人 2020.01.12
细雨将至,唤醒泥土的气息,
燕子,将于盘旋中呢哝私语;
青蛙会在池塘里整夜放歌,
野生的李花将素衣婆娑;
知更鸟的胸前会红羽如火,
在矮栏上啾啾地斗嘴玩乐。
没谁会知晓战争因何起,
没谁会关心何时有结局。
鸟儿与树,必定不会在意,
人类是否将毁灭彻底;
而春天,她若在清晨苏醒,
不会觉察我们已成为过去。
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