To Autumn｜秋頌

John Keats
濟慈

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
季節有濛霧，豐淳果實足，
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
此季為密友，成熟與金烏，
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
綢繆將何以，載物並添祝，
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
葡萄爬藤上，盤旋繞簷處，
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
彎折因蘋果，樹偎青苔屋，
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
飽滿有水果，核心亦成熟，
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
膨脹使葫蘆，榛殼若鼓腹，
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
甜美有果仁，抽芽更繁複，
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
更甚有花朵，遲開為蜂故，
Until they think warm days will never cease,
以為炎熱天，消逝將從不，
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
誤認只因夏，蜂漿滿溢出。

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
現身儲藏內，問誰汝不見？
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
有時向外界，尋之或發現，
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
膝坐若恍神，穀粒遍地前，
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
揚起篩穀風，吹過髮翩翩；
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
犁溝半收稼，時汝或酣眠，
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
手將鐮刀放，欲睡罌粟煙，
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
不割下畝田，交織在花間；
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
又如拾穗者，沉重在頭肩，
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
勉強持重心，不墜跨溪邊；
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
蘋果釀酒處，痴痴或許見，
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
點滴其滲出，餘盡耗久遠。

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
試問春之歌，如今何處也？
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
春歌莫思量，屬汝仍有樂，
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
綻放條狀雲，消散日將結，
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
觸及以瑰霞，殘株短梗野；
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
哀悼傳合唱，蚊蚋在哽咽，
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
河畔楊柳間，受舉高空躍，
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
又或落塵埃，隨風聽生滅；
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
足齡有羔羊，引啼從山界；
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
歌聲聽蟋蟀，高音柔聲越，
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
農院知更鳥，吹哨傳聲疊，
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
飛燕聚而散，四方天際別。