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BEHOLD1 her, single in the field,
Yon solitary2 Highland3 Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself，
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds4 the grain,
And sings a melancholy5 strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing6 with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travelers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?—
Perhaps the plaintive7 numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble8 lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden
sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle9 bending;——
I listen'd, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
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看，一个孤独的高原姑娘，
在远远的田野间收割，
一边割一边独自歌唱，
请你站住．或者俏悄走过！
她独自把麦子割了又捆，
唱出无限悲凉的歌声，
屏息听吧！深广的谷地
已被歌声涨满而漫溢！
还从未有过夜莺百啭，
唱出过如此迷人的歌，
在沙漠中的绿荫间
抚慰过疲惫的旅客；
还从未有过杜鹃迎春，
声声啼得如此震动灵魂，
在遥远的赫布利底群岛
打破过大海的寂寥。
她唱什么，谁能告诉我？
忧伤的音符不断流涌，
是把遥远的不聿诉说？
是把古代的战争吟咏？
也许她的歌比较卑谦，
只是唱今日平凡的悲欢，
只是唱自然的哀伤苦痛——
昨天经受过，明天又将重逢？
姑娘唱什么，我猜不着，
她的歌如流水永无尽头；
只见她一边唱一边干活，
弯腰挥镰，操劳不休……
我凝神不动，听她歌唱，
然后，当我登上了山岗，
尽管歌声早已不能听到，
它却仍在我心头缭绕。
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