The poetry of earth is never dead.

大地的诗歌从来不会死亡：

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun

当所有的鸟儿因骄阳而昏晕，

And hide in cooling trees,a voice will run

隐藏在阴凉的林中，就有一种声音

From hedge to hedge about the new?mown mead

在新割的草地周围的树篱上飘荡

That is the Grasshopper’s. He takes the lead

那就是蝈蝈的乐音啊! 它争先

In summer luxury;he has never done

沉醉于盛夏的豪华，它从未感到

With his delights,for when tired out with fun

自己的喜悦消逝，一旦唱得疲劳了，

He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.

便舒适地栖息在可喜的草丛中间。

The poetry of earth is ceasing never.

大地的诗歌呀，从来没有停息：

On a lone winter evening, when the frost

在寂寞的冬天夜晚，当严霜凝成

Has wrought a silence,from the stove there shrills

一片宁静，从炉边就弹起了

The cricket’s song,in warmth increasing ever，

蛐蛐的歌儿，在逐渐升高的暖气，

And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,

昏昏欲睡中，人们感到那声音

The grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.

仿佛就是蝈蝈在草茸茸的山上鸣叫。