圣诞节，我们又在用冬青

Again at Christmas did we weave

　　编着装点节日的壁炉；

       The holly round the Christmas hearth;

　　无声的积雪把大地镇住，

       The silent snow possess'd the earth,

我们的圣诞夜静静降临。

And calmly fell our Christmas-eve:

冻住的大木段火花直爆，

The yule-log sparkled keen with frost,

　　没有一丝风掠过这地方，

       No wing of wind the region swept,

　　但在郁郁沉沉的万物上，

       But over all things brooding slept

有种失落之感悄悄笼罩。

The quiet sense of something lost.

像以往那些冬天里一样，

As in the winters left behind,

　　我们又玩起从前的游戏。

      Again our ancient games had place,

　　照艺术品摆出逼真姿势，

      The mimic picture's breathing grace,

再加唱歌、跳舞和捉迷藏。

And dance and song and hoodman-blind.

谁流露一点忧伤的征兆？

Who show'd a token of distress?

　　没有一滴泪，没痛苦痕迹——

      No single tear, no mark of pain:

　　悲痛啊，悲痛也能够消逝？

      O sorrow, then can sorrow wane?

哀愁啊，哀愁也能够变少？

O grief, can grief be changed to less?

极度的抱憾哪，能够凋殒！

O last regret, regret can die!

　　不；同一切难解心情相缠，

      No—mixt with all this mystic frame,

　　哀痛的深层联系仍不变，

      Her deep relations are the same,

但是因哀痛已久泪流尽。

But with long use her tears are dry.