The trees are coming into leaf 

树木快要长出新叶

Like something almost being said; 

仿佛即将说出什么;

The recent buds relax and spread, 

刚出的嫩芽松开并伸展

Their greenness is a kind of grief. 

它们的新绿是某种悲哀。

Is it that they are born again 

是否它们得以再生

And we grow old? No, they die too, 

而我们却要老去?不，它们也将死去。

Their yearly trick of looking new 

那些年年新绿的把戏

Is written down in rings of grain. 

都写进了一圈圈的年轮。

Yet still the unresting castles thresh 

但这不停摇曳的树林城堡

In fullgrown thickness every May. 

每到五月依然枝繁叶茂。

Last year is dead, they seem to say, 

去年已死，它们仿佛在说，

Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

让我们重新，重新，重新开始。