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¡¡¡¡When Day Is Done

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¡¡¡¡If the day is done ,

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¡¡¡¡If birds sing no more .

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¡¡¡¡If the wind has fiagged tired ,

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¡¡¡¡Then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me ,

¡¡¡¡ÄÇÓúڰµºñÄ»°ÑÎÒ¸ÇÉÏ£¬

¡¡¡¡Even as thou hast wrapt the earth with The coverlet of sleep and tenderly closed ,

¡¡¡¡Èçͬ»Æ»èʱ½ÚÄãÓÃ˯ÃßôÀ±»¹üס´óµØ£¬

¡¡¡¡The petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.

¡¡¡¡ÓÖÇáÇáºÏÉÏ˯Á«»¨°ê¡£

¡¡¡¡From the traverer,

¡¡¡¡Â·Í¾Î´Í꣬ÐÐÄÒÒÑ¿Õ,

¡¡¡¡Whose sack of provisions is empty before the voyage is ended ,

¡¡¡¡ÒÂÉÑÆÆÁÑÎÛËð£¬ÈËÒѾ«Æ£Á¦½ß¡£

¡¡¡¡Whose garment is torn and dust-laden ,

¡¡¡¡ÄãÇýÉ¢ÁËÂÿÍÐßÀ¢ºÍÀ§¾½£¬

¡¡¡¡Whose strength is exhausted,remove shame and poverty ,

¡¡¡¡Ê¹ËûÔÚÄãÈÊ´ÈҹĻÏ£¬

¡¡¡¡And renew his life like a flower under

¡¡¡¡È绨¶ä°ã»À·¢Éú»ú¡£

¡¡¡¡The cover of thy kindly night .

¡¡¡¡ÔÚÄã´È°®Ò¹Ä»ÏÂËÕÐÑ¡£

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¡¡¡¡I asked nothing£¬ only stood at the edge of the wood behind the tree.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒÒ»ÎÞËùÇó£¬Ö»Õ¾ÔÚÁÖ±ßÊ÷ºó¡£

¡¡¡¡Languor was still upon the eyes of the dawn£¬ and the dew in the air.

¡¡¡¡¾ëÒ⻹¶ºÁôÔÚÀèÃ÷ÑÛÉÏ£¬Â¶ÈóÔÚ¿ÕÆøÀï¡£

¡¡¡¡The lazy smell of the damp grass hung in the thin mist above the earth.

¡¡¡¡Êª²ÝÀÁζÐü´¹ÔÚµØÃ污ÎíÖС£

¡¡¡¡Under the banyan tree you were milking the cow with your hands£¬ tender and fresh as butter.

¡¡¡¡ÔÚéÅÊ÷ÏÂÄãÓÃÈéÓÍ°ãÈáÄÛÊÖ¼·×ÅÅ£ÄÌ¡£

¡¡¡¡And I was standing still.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒ³Á¾²µØÕ¾Á¢×Å¡£

¡¡¡¡I did not come near you.

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¡¡¡¡The sky woke with the sound of the gong at the temple.

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¡¡¡¡The dust was raised in the road from the hoofs of the driven cattle.

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¡¡¡¡With the gurgling pitchers at their hips£¬ women came from the river.

¡¡¡¡°Ñãéãé·¢Ïìˮƿ§ÔÚÑüÉÏ£¬Å®ÈËÃÇ´ÓºÓ±ß×ßÀ´¡£

¡¡¡¡Your bracelets were jingling£¬ and foam brimming over the jar.

¡¡¡¡ÄãîËïí¶¡µ±£¬ÈéÄ­Òç³ö¹ÞÑØ¡£

¡¡¡¡The morning wore on and I did not come near you.

¡¡¡¡³¿¹â½¥ÊŶøÎÒûÓв½½üÄã¡£

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¡¡¡¡Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.

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¡¡¡¡And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sign.

¡¡¡¡ÇïÌì»ÆÒ¶£¬ËüÃÇûÓÐʲô¿É³ª£¬Ö»Ì¾Ï¢Ò»Éù£¬·ÉÂäÔÚÄÇÀï¡£

¡¡¡¡O Troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.

¡¡¡¡ÊÀ½çÉÏÒ»¶ÓССƯ²´Õßѽ£¬ÇëÁôÏÂÄãÃÇ×ãÓ¡ÔÚÎÒÎÄ×ÖÀï¡£

¡¡¡¡The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover.

¡¡¡¡ÊÀ½ç¶Ô×ÅËü°®ÈË£¬°ÑËüºÆº²Ãæ¾ß½ÒÏÂÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.

¡¡¡¡Ëü±äСÁË£¬Ð¡ÈçÒ»Ê׸裬СÈçÒ»»ØÓÀºã½ÓÎÇ¡£

¡¡¡¡It is the tears of the earth that keep here smiles in bloom.

¡¡¡¡ÊÇ´óµØÀáµã£¬Ê¹Ëý΢Ц±£³Ö×ÅÇà´º²»Ð»¡£

¡¡¡¡The mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.

¡¡¡¡ÎÞÛóɳĮÈÈÁÒ×·ÇóÒ»Ò¶Â̲ݰ®£¬ËýҡҡͷЦ×Å·É¿ªÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.

¡¡¡¡Èç¹ûÄãÒòʧȥÁËÌ«Ñô¶øÁ÷ÀᣬÄÇôÄãÒ²½«Ê§È¥ÈºÐÇÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡The sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Will you carry the burden of their lameness?

¡¡¡¡ÌøÎè×ÅÁ÷ˮѽ£¬ÔÚÄã;ÖÐÄàɳ£¬ÒªÇóÄã¸èÉù£¬ÄãÁ÷¶¯ÄØ¡£Äã¿ÏЮȳ×ãÄàɳ¶ø¾ãÏÂô?

¡¡¡¡Her wishful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night.

¡¡¡¡ËýÈÈÇÐÁ³£¬ÈçÒ¹ÓêËÆ£¬½ÁÈÅ×ÅÎÒÃλꡣ

¡¡¡¡Once we dreamt that we were strangers.

¡¡¡¡ÓÐÒ»´Î£¬ÎÒÃÇÃμû´ó¼Ò¶¼ÊDz»Ïàʶ¡£

¡¡¡¡We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒÃÇÐÑÁË£¬È´ÖªµÀÎÒÃÇÔ­ÊÇÏàÇ×Ïà°®¡£

¡¡¡¡Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.

¡¡¡¡ÓÇ˼ÔÚÎÒÐÄÀïƽ¾²ÏÂÈ¥£¬ÕýÈçĺɫ½µÁÙÔڼž²É½ÁÖÖС£

¡¡¡¡Ì©¸ê¶û¾­µäÊ«¼¯Ó¢ÎÄ°æÐÀÉÍ Æª4

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¡¡¡¡I sitat my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment,nods to me and goes.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒ½ñ³¿×øÔÚ´°Ç°£¬ÊÀ½çÈçÒ»¸ö·ÈËËƵģ¬Í£ÁôÁËÒ»»á£¬ÏòÎÒµãµãÍ·ÓÖ×ß¹ýÈ¥ÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡There little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; they have their whisper ofjoy in my mind.

¡¡¡¡ÕâЩ΢˼£¬ÊÇÊ÷Ò¶µÄóùóùÖ®Éùѽ;ËüÃÇÔÚÎÒµÄÐÄÀﻶÔõØ΢Óï×Å¡£

¡¡¡¡What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow.

¡¡¡¡Äã¿´²»¼ûÄã×Ô¼º£¬ÄãËù¿´¼ûµÄÖ»ÊÇÄãµÄÓ°×Ó¡£

¡¡¡¡My wishes arefools, they shout across thy song, my Master. Let me but listen.

¡¡¡¡Ñ½£¬ÎÒµÄÄÇЩԸÍûÕæÊÇÓÞɵѽ£¬ËüÃÇÔÓÔÚÄãµÄ¸èÉùÖÐÐú½Ð×ÅÄØ¡£ÈÃÎÒÖ»ÊǾ²Ìý×Å°É¡£

¡¡¡¡I cannot choose the best. The best chooses me.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒ²»ÄÜÑ¡ÔñÄǵġ£ÊÇÄǵÄÑ¡ÔñÎÒ¡£

¡¡¡¡Ì©¸ê¶û¾­µäÊ«¼¯Ó¢ÎÄ°æÐÀÉÍ Æª5

¡¡¡¡Á÷·ÅµÄµØ·½ The land of the Exile

¡¡¡¡MOTHER, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know what the time is. ÂèÂ裬Ìì¿ÕÉϵĹâ³ÉÁË»ÒÉ«ÁË;ÎÒ²»ÖªµÀÊÇʲôʱºòÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡There is no fun in my play, so I have come to you. It is Saturday, our holiday. ÎÒÍæµÃ¹Öû¾¢¶ùµÄ£¬ËùÒÔµ½ÄãÕâÀïÀ´ÁË¡£ÕâÊÇÐÇÆÚÁù£¬ÊÇÎÒÃǵÄÐÝÏ¢ÈÕ¡£

¡¡¡¡Leave off your work, mother; sit here by the window and tell me where the desert of Tep?ntar in the fairy tale is? ·ÅÏÂÄãµÄ»î¼Æ£¬ÂèÂè;×øÔÚ¿¿´°µÄÒ»±ß£¬¸æËßÎÒͯ»°ÀïµÄÌØÅËËþɳĮÔÚʲôµØ·½?

¡¡¡¡The shadow of the rains has covered the day from end to end. ÓêµÄÓ°×ÓÕÚÑÚÁËÕû¸ö°×Ìì¡£

¡¡¡¡The fierce lightning is scratching the sky with its nails. Ð×Ã͵ĵç¹âÓÃËüµÄצ×Ó×¥×ÅÌì¿Õ¡£

¡¡¡¡When the clouds rumble and it thunders, I love to be afraid in my heart and cling to you. µ±ÎÚÔÆÔÚºäºäµØÏì×Å£¬Ìì´ò×ÅÀ×µÄʱºò£¬ÎÒ×Ü°®ÐÄÀï´ø×Å¿Ö¾åÅÀ·üµ½ÄãµÄÉíÉÏ¡£

¡¡¡¡When the heavy rain patters for hours on the bamboo leaves, and our windows shake and rattle at the gusts of wind, I like to sit alone in the room, mother, with you, and hear you talk about the desert of Tep?ntar in the fairy tale. µ±´óÓêÇãкÔÚÖñÒ¶×ÓÉϺü¸¸öÖÓÍ·£¬¶øÎÒÃǵĴ°»§Îª¿ñ·çÕðµÃ¸ñ¸ñ·¢ÏìµÄʱºò£¬ÎҾͰ®¶À×ÔºÍÄã×øÔÚÎÝÀÂèÂ裬ÌýÄ㽲ͯ»°ÀïµÄÌØÅËËþɳĮµÄ'¹ÊÊ¡£

¡¡¡¡Where is it, mother, on the shore of what sea, at the foot of what hills, in the kingdom of what king? ËüÔÚÄÄÀÂèÂ裬ÔÚÄÄÒ»¸öº£ÑóµÄ°¶ÉÏ£¬ÔÚÄÄЩ¸öɽ·åµÄ½ÅÏ£¬ÔÚÄÄÒ»¸ö¹úÍõµÄ¹úÍÁÀï?

¡¡¡¡There are no hedges there to mark the fields, no footpath across it by which the villagers reach their village in the evening, or the woman who gathers dry sticks in the forest can bring her load to the market. With patches of yellow grass in the sand and only one tree where the pair of wise old birds have their nest, lies the desert of Tep?ntar. ÌïµØÉÏûÓд˽®±ËÈÀµÄ½çʯ£¬Ò²Ã»ÓдåÈËÔڻƻèʱ×߻ؼҵģ¬»ò¸¾ÈËÔÚÊ÷ÁÖÀï¼ñÊ° ¿ÝÖ¦¶øÀ¦Ôص½Êг¡ÉÏÈ¥µÄµÀ·¡£É³µØÉÏÖ»ÓÐһС¿éһС¿éµÄ»ÆÉ«²ÝµØ£¬Ö»ÓÐÒ»ÖêÊ÷£¬¾ÍÊÇÄÇÒ»¶Ô´ÏÃ÷µÄÀÏÄñ¶ùÔÚÄÇÀï×öÎѵģ¬ÄǸöµØ·½¾ÍÊÇÌØÅËËþɳĮ¡£

¡¡¡¡I can imagine how, on just such a cloudy day, the young son of the king is riding alone on a grey horse through the desert, in search of the princess who lies imprisoned in the giant's palace across that unknown water. ÎÒÄܹ»ÏëÏóµÃµ½£¬¾ÍÔÚÕâÑùÒ»¸öÎÚÔÆÃܲ¼µÄÈÕ×Ó£¬¹úÍõµÄÄêÇáµÄ¶ù×Ó£¬ÔõÑùµØ¶À×Ô Æï×Åһƥ»ÒÉ«Âí£¬×ß¹ýÕâ¸öɳĮ£¬È¥Ñ°ÕÒÄDZ»Çô½ûÔÚ²»¿ÉÖªµÄÖØÑóÖ®ÍâµÄ¾ÞÈ˹¬ÀïµÄ¹«Ö÷¡£

¡¡¡¡When the haze of the rain comes down in the distant sky, and lightning starts up like a sudden fit of pain, does he remember his unhappy mother, abandoned by the king, sweeping the cow-stall and wiping her eyes, while he rides through the desert of Tep?ntar in the fairy tale? µ±ÓêÎíÔÚÒ£Ô¶µÄÌì¿ÕϽµ£¬µç¹âÏñÒ»ÕóͻȻ·¢×÷µÄÍ´³þµÄ¾·ÂÎËƵØÉÁÉäµÄʱºò£¬Ëû ¿É¼ÇµÃËûµÄ²»ÐÒµÄĸÇ×£¬Îª¹úÍõËùÆú£¬ÕýÔÚɨ³ýÅ£ÅÑÛÀïÁ÷×ÅÑÛÀᣬµ±ËûÆïÂí×ß¹ýͯ»°ÀïµÄÌØÅËËþɳĮµÄʱºò?

¡¡¡¡See, mother, it is almost dark before the day is over, and there are no travellers yonder on the village road. ¿´£¬ÂèÂ裬һÌ컹ûÓÐÍ꣬ÌìÉ«¾Í²î²»¶àºÚÁË£¬ÄDZߴåׯµÄ·ÉÏûÓÐʲôÂÿÍÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡The shepherd boy has gone home early from the pasture, and men have left their fields to sit on mats under the eaves of their huts, watching the scowling clouds. ÄÁͯÔç¾Í´ÓÄÁ³¡ÉϻؼÒÁË£¬ÈËÃǶ¼ÒÑ´ÓÌïµØÀï»ØÀ´£¬×øÔÚËûÃDzÝÎݵÄéÜϵIJÝϯÉÏ£¬ÑÛÍû×ÅÒõ³ÁµÄÔÆ¿é¡£

¡¡¡¡Mother, I have left all my books on the shelf--do not ask me to do my lessons now. ÂèÂ裬ÎÒ°ÑÎÒËùÓеÄÊé±¾¶¼·ÅÔÚÊé¼ÜÉÏÁË¡ª¡ª²»Òª½ÐÎÒÏÖÔÚ×ö¹¦¿Î¡£

¡¡¡¡When I grow up and am big like my father, I shall learn all that must be learnt. µ±ÎÒ³¤´óÁË£¬´óµÃÏñ°Ö°ÖÒ»ÑùµÄʱºò£¬ÎÒ½«»áѧµ½±ØÐëѧµÄ¶«Î÷µÄ¡£

¡¡¡¡But just for to-day, tell me, mother, where the desert of Tep?ntar in the fairy tale is? µ«ÊÇ£¬½ñÌìÄã¿ÉµÃ¸æËßÎÒ£¬ÂèÂ裬ͯ»°ÀïµÄÌØÅËËþɳĮÔÚʲôµØ·½?

¡¡¡¡Ì©¸ê¶û¾­µäÊ«¼¯Ó¢ÎÄ°æÐÀÉÍ Æª6

¡¡¡¡ÓêÌì The rainy day

¡¡¡¡SULLEN clouds are gathering fast over the black fringe of the forest. ÎÚÔƺܿìµØ¼¯Â£ÔÚÉ­ÁÖµÄ÷îºÚµÄ±ßÔµÉÏ¡£

¡¡¡¡O child, do not go out! º¢ÉÏ£¬²»Òª³öȥѽ!

¡¡¡¡The palm trees in a row by the lake are smiting their heads against the dismal sky; the crows with their draggled wings are silent on the tamarind branches, and the eastern bank of the river is haunted by a deepening gloom. ºþ±ßµÄÒ»ÐÐ×ØÊ÷£¬ÏòêÔ°µµÄÌì¿Õײ×ÅÍ·;ÓðëÁãÂÒµÄÎÚÑ»£¬¾²ÇÄÇĵØÆÜÔÚÂÞÍû×ÓµÄÖ¦ÉÏ£¬ºÓµÄ¶«°¶Õý±»ÎÚ³Á³ÁµÄêÔÉ«ËùÇÖÏ®¡£

¡¡¡¡Our cow is lowing loud, tied at the fence. ÎÒÃǵÄţϵÔÚÀéÉÏ£¬¸ßÉùÃù½Ð¡£

¡¡¡¡O child, wait here till I bring her into the stall. º¢×Ó£¬ÔÚÕâÀïµÈ×Å£¬µÈÎÒÏÈ°Ñţǣ½øÅ£ÅïÀïÈ¥¡£

¡¡¡¡Men have crowded into the flooded field to catch the fishes as they escape from the overflowing ponds; the rain water is running in rills through the narrow lanes like a laughing boy who has run away from his mother to tease her. Ðí¶àÈ˶¼¼·ÔÚ³ØË®·ºÒçµÄÌï¼ä£¬×½ÄÇ´Ó·ºÒçµÄ³ØÖÐÌÓ³öÀ´µÄÓã¶ù£¬ÓêË®³ÉÁËСºÓ£¬Á÷¹ýÏÁ½Ö£¬ºÃÏñÒ»¸öæÒЦµÄº¢×Ó´ÓËûÂèÂèÄÇÀïÅÜ¿ª£¬¹ÊÒâÒªÄÕËýÒ»Ñù¡£

¡¡¡¡Listen, someone is shouting for the boatman at the ford. Ìýѽ£¬ÓÐÈËÔÚdz̲ÉϺ°´¬·òÄØ¡£

¡¡¡¡O child, the daylight is dim, and the crossing at the ferry is closed. º¢×Ó£¬ÌìÉ«êÔ°µÁË£¬¶ÉÍ·µÄ°Ú¶É´¬ÒѾ­Í£ÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡The sky seems to ride fast upon the madly-rushing rain; the water in the river is loud and impatient; women have hastened home early from the Ganges with their filled pitchers. Ìì¿ÕºÃÏñÊÇÔÚäèãûµÄÓêÉÏ¿ìÅÜ×Å;ºÓÀïµÄË®Ðú½Ð¶øÇÒ±©Ôê;¸¾ÈËÃÇÔçÒÑÄÃ׿³ÂúÁËË®µÄË®¹Þ£¬´ÓºãºÓÅϴҴҵػؼÒÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡The evening lamps must be made ready. Ò¹ÀïÓõĵƣ¬Ò»¶¨ÒªÔ¤±¸ºÃ¡£

¡¡¡¡O child, do not go out! º¢×Ó£¬²»Òª³öȥѽ!

¡¡¡¡The road to the market is desolate, the lane to the river is slippery. The wind is roaring and struggling among the bamboo branches like a wild beast tangled in a net. µ½Êг¡È¥µÄ´óµÀÒÑûÓÐÈË×ߣ¬µ½ºÓ±ßÈ¥µÄС·Óֺܻ¬¡£·çÔÚÖñÁÖÀïÅØÏø×Å£¬ÕõÔú×Å£¬ºÃÏñÒ»Ö»ÂäÔÚÍøÖеÄÒ°ÊÞ¡£

¡¡¡¡Ì©¸ê¶û¾­µäÊ«¼¯Ó¢ÎÄ°æÐÀÉÍ Æª7

¡¡¡¡Ö½´¬ PAPER BOATS

¡¡¡¡DAY by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running stream. ÎÒÿÌì°ÑÖ½´¬Ò»¸ö¸ö·ÅÔÚ¼±Á÷µÄϪÖС£

¡¡¡¡In big black letters I write my name on them and the name of the village where I live. ÎÒÓôóºÚ×ÖдÎÒµÄÃû×ÖºÍÎÒסµÄ´åÃûÔÚÖ½´¬ÉÏ¡£

¡¡¡¡I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and know who I am. ÎÒÏ£ÍûסÔÚÒìµØµÄÈË»áµÃµ½ÕâÖ½´¬£¬ÖªµÀÎÒÊÇË­¡£

¡¡¡¡I load my little boats with shiuli flowers from our garden, and hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land in the night. ÎÒ°ÑÔ°Ö㤵ÄÐãÀû»¨ÔØÔÚÎÒµÄС´¬ÉÏ£¬Ï£ÍûÕâЩÀèÃ÷¿ªµÄ»¨ÄÜÔÚÒ¹Àﱻƽƽ°²°²µØ´øµ½°¶ÉÏ¡£

¡¡¡¡I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the little clouds setting their white bulging sails. ÎÒͶÎÒµÄÖ½´¬µ½Ë®ÀÑöÍûÌì¿Õ£¬¿´¼ûС¶äµÄÔÆÕýÕÅ×ÅÂú¹Ä×Å·çµÄ°×·«¡£

¡¡¡¡I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down the air to race with my boats! ÎÒ²»ÖªµÀÌìÉÏÓÐÎÒµÄʲôÓΰé°ÑÕâЩ´¬·ÅÏÂÀ´Í¬ÎҵĴ¬±ÈÈü!

¡¡¡¡When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars. Ò¹À´ÁË£¬ÎÒµÄÁ³ÂñÔÚÊÖ±ÛÀÃμûÎÒµÄÖ½´¬ÔÚ×ÓÒ¹µÄÐǹâÏ»º»ºµØ¸¡·ºÇ°È¥¡£

¡¡¡¡The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading is their baskets full of dreams. ˯ÏÉ×øÔÚ´¬À´ø×ÅÂúÔØ×ÅÃεÄÀº×Ó¡£

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