樹
樹木快要長出新葉
仿佛即将說出什麼;
剛出的嫩芽松開并伸展
它們的新綠是某種悲哀。
是否它們得以再生
而我們卻要老去?不，它們也将死去。
那些年年新綠的把戲都寫進了一圈圈的年輪。
但這不停搖曳的樹林城堡
每到五月依然枝繁葉茂。
去年已死，它們仿佛在說，
讓我們重新，重新，重新開始。
作者 / [英國] 菲利普·拉金
The Trees
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In full grown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
Philip Larkin
