英语翻译The January wind has a hundred voices.It can scream,it c
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英语翻译
The January wind has a hundred voices.It can scream,it can bellow,it can whisper,and it can sing a lullaby.It can roar through the leafless oaks and shout down the hillside,and it can murmur in the white pines rooted among the granite ledges where lichen makes strange hieroglyphics.It can whistle down a chimney and set the hearth-flames to dancing.On a sunny day it can pause in a sheltered spot and breathe a promise of spring and violets.In the cold of a lonely night it can rattle the sash and stay there muttering of ice and snowbanks and deep-frozen ponds.
[2] Sometimes the January wind seems to come from the farthest star in the outer darkness,so remote and so impersonal is its voice.That is the wind of a January dawn,in the half-light that trembles between day and night.It is a wind that merely quivers the trees,its force sensed but not seen,a force that might almost hold back the day if it were so directed.Then the east brightens,and the wind relaxes—the stars,its source,grown dim.
[3] And sometimes the January wind is so intimate that you know it came only from the next hill,a little wind that plays with leaves and puffs at chimney smoke and whistles like a little boy with puckered lips.It makes the little cedar trees quiver,as with delight.It shadow-boxes with the weather-vane.It tweaks an ear,and whispers laughing words about crocuses and daffodils,and nips the nose and dances off.
[4] But you never know,until you hear its voice,which wind is here today.Or,more important,which will be here tomorrow.
The January wind has a hundred voices.It can scream,it can bellow,it can whisper,and it can sing a lullaby.It can roar through the leafless oaks and shout down the hillside,and it can murmur in the white pines rooted among the granite ledges where lichen makes strange hieroglyphics.It can whistle down a chimney and set the hearth-flames to dancing.On a sunny day it can pause in a sheltered spot and breathe a promise of spring and violets.In the cold of a lonely night it can rattle the sash and stay there muttering of ice and snowbanks and deep-frozen ponds.
[2] Sometimes the January wind seems to come from the farthest star in the outer darkness,so remote and so impersonal is its voice.That is the wind of a January dawn,in the half-light that trembles between day and night.It is a wind that merely quivers the trees,its force sensed but not seen,a force that might almost hold back the day if it were so directed.Then the east brightens,and the wind relaxes—the stars,its source,grown dim.
[3] And sometimes the January wind is so intimate that you know it came only from the next hill,a little wind that plays with leaves and puffs at chimney smoke and whistles like a little boy with puckered lips.It makes the little cedar trees quiver,as with delight.It shadow-boxes with the weather-vane.It tweaks an ear,and whispers laughing words about crocuses and daffodils,and nips the nose and dances off.
[4] But you never know,until you hear its voice,which wind is here today.Or,more important,which will be here tomorrow.
以怒吼咆哮,可以低声细语,可以唱着摇篮曲.它呼啸着光秃的橡树和在山坡,它可以杂音在白色的松树扎根在花岗岩的五针松下地衣使奇怪的象形文字.它可以放弃一个烟囱和设置炉火焰跳舞.在一个阳光明媚的一天它可以暂停,飘洒春天的一份承诺和紫罗兰.在寒冷的一个寂寞的夜晚,它可以喋喋不休的腰带和呆在那里喃喃自语的冰和雪和冰冻的池塘.[2]有时一月的风似乎来自最远的明星在外面的黑暗里,所以远程,所以没有人情味的是它的声音.这是一个1月之风黎明,在暗光,昼夜之间震动.这是一个风,只是颤动的树木,其力感觉但不看见的,一种力量,也许几乎阻碍天如果它是如此直接的.然后东方照亮,风恒星,其来源的放松,昏花.[3],有时一月的风是如此亲密,你知道它仅仅来自于接下来的山,一个小风,玩叶子和泡芙在冒烟的烟囱,吹口哨就像一个小男孩走进的嘴唇.这让小雪松树箭袋,与喜悦.它阴影盒的风向标.它调整ear,低语笑句关于水仙花,和少量的番红花和鼻子和跳舞了.[4]但你永远不知道,直到你听到它的声音,风是今天在这里.或者,更重要的是,这将是明天.
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