树
树木快要长出新叶
仿佛即将说出什么;
刚出的嫩芽松开并伸展
它们的新绿是某种悲哀。
是否它们得以再生
而我们却要老去?不，它们也将死去。
那些年年新绿的把戏都写进了一圈圈的年轮。
但这不停摇曳的树林城堡
每到五月依然枝繁叶茂。
去年已死，它们仿佛在说，
让我们重新，重新，重新开始。
作者 / [英国] 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
