十一月我的客人（譯自弗羅斯特詩 My November Guest). 拋一磚！

My November Guest  
十一月我的客人

我的悲傷，當她在這裏與我一起，
想起這些暗淡的日子彌漫著秋雨
美麗得像所有的日子擁有的美麗；
她喜歡這光禿，這枯萎的樹枝；
她漫步在這牧草腐爛的小路。

她的愉悅，將不讓我呆在家裏
她說著話，我且欣然傾聽：
她高興於那些鳥兒已經遷移
她高興於她身上平實的灰色外衣
現在已經沾上霧水潔白如銀。

那荒涼的、寂靜的樹林，
褪色的地，厚重的陰天，
這些美麗她都看得認真，
她不知道我的理由而怪嗔，
以為我對這些，都看不上眼。

我不是到昨天才知道
在那雪花飄落之前
光禿的十一月的日子很美好，
但告訴她這樣會是徒勞
且它們變得更好，因為她的美言。

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.