The Trees by Philip Larkin

The Trees

 

Philip Larkin

 

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 fullgrown thickness every May. 

Last year is dead, they seem to say, 

Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

 

 

 

樹

 

樹上湧起葉子

像即將出口的話；

那舒展的新芽，

嫩綠含著一絲悲戚。

 

是否樹重生

而我們衰老？ 不， 樹也衰老， 

每年如新的巧妙

都藏在軀幹的年輪。

 

不倦的樹依然迭更

每個五月都是茂密。

去年已死，樹仿佛宣示，

一起來重生， 重生， 重生。