Thomas Bailey Aldrich - No Songs in Winter 汉译

There is no bird upon the bough,

There is no leaf on vine or tree.

In the Neponset marshes now

Willow-stems, rosy in the wind,

Shiver with hidden sense of snow.

So too ’tis winter in my mind,

No light-winged fancy comes and stays:

A season churlish and unkind.

Slow creep the hours, slow creep the days,

The black ink crusts upon the pen—

Wait till the bluebirds and the jays

And golden orioles come again!