十一月我的客人（译自弗罗斯特诗 My November Guest). 抛一砖！

My November Guest  
十一月我的客人

我的悲伤，当她在这里与我一起，
想起这些暗淡的日子弥漫着秋雨
美丽得像所有的日子拥有的美丽；
她喜欢这光秃，这枯萎的树枝；
她漫步在这牧草腐烂的小路。

她的愉悦，将不让我呆在家里
她说着话，我且欣然倾听：
她高兴于那些鸟儿已经迁移
她高兴于她身上平实的灰色外衣
现在已经沾上雾水洁白如银。

那荒凉的、寂静的树林，
褪色的地，厚重的阴天，
这些美丽她都看得认真，
她不知道我的理由而怪嗔，
以为我对这些，都看不上眼。

我不是到昨天才知道
在那雪花飘落之前
光秃的十一月的日子很美好，
但告诉她这样会是徒劳
且它们变得更好，因为她的美言。

My sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.