Spring are not always the same.In some years,April bursts upon Virginia hills in one prodigious leap-and all the stage is filled at once,whole choruses of tulips,arabesques of forsythia,cadenzas of flowering plum.The trees grow leaves overnight.
春天并不总是相同的。在一些年，四月爆发在弗吉尼亚的小山丘一个健步跨越所有的阶段，顿时，满山遍野的郁金香，连翘，榆叶梅华彩。一夜之间叶成林。
In other years,spring tiptoes in.It pauses,overcome by shyness,like my grandchild at the door,peeping in,ducking out of sight,giggling in the hallway."I know you are out there,"I cry."Come in”And April slips into our arms.
在其他年份，春天踮着脚。它停了下来，克服羞怯，喜欢在家门口，我的孙子在偷窥，避开视线，在走廊里咯咯地笑。“我知道你在那里，我哭了。“进来”和四月潜入我们的武器。
The dogwood bud, pale green,is inlaid with russet markings.Within the perfect cup a score of clustered seeds are nestled.One examines the bud in awe:Where were those seeds a month ago?The apples display their milliner's scraps of ivory silk,rose-tinged.All the sleeping things wake it,feel it, crumble April in your hands.
山茱萸的花蕾，淡绿色，镶着赤褐色的斑纹。在完美的杯偎依着一丛种子。不禁要惊羡地问一句：一个月前，这些种子还在哪儿呢?苹果显示器的女帽乳白色丝缎，rose-tinged.all沉睡的东西唤醒它，感受它，在手中赏玩四月。
Look to the rue anemone,if you will,or the pea patch,or to the stubborn weed that thrusts its shoulders through a city street.This is how it was,is now,and ever shall be, the world without end.In the serene certainty of spring recurring,who fear the distant fall?
看看白头翁花，如果你愿意，或豌豆畦，或是那倔强地在城市的街道上。这是怎么回事，现在是，并且永远都是，没有结束的世界。春去春又来，谁害怕遥远的秋天呢?
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