去年秋天经霜的浆果还结在一棵树上，

Last autumn's chastened berries still on one tree,

春天已在另一棵树上温柔地开了花，充满希望。

spring blossoms seeming tender,

从这扇窗子望出去的风景

hopeful, on another.

几乎和十年前一样，甚至十五年前。

The view from this window

但今天早晨却像是

much as it was ten years ago, fifteen.

一幅更清晰更幽暗的自画像，

Yet it seems this morning

仿佛当我睡着的时候，某个伦勃朗或勃鲁盖尔

a self-portrait both clearer and darker,

曾穿过花园，神情坚毅。

as if while I slept some Rembrandt or Brueghel

had walked through the garden, looking hard.