標題: 雙語(yǔ)美文：漸行漸遠的童年天堂 [打印本頁(yè)] 作者: fliger 時(shí)間: 2012-2-29 12:16 標題: 雙語(yǔ)美文：漸行漸遠的童年天堂 I remember, I remember the house where I was born, the little window where the sun came peeping in at morn; he never came a wink too soon nor brought too long a day; but now, I often wish the night had borne my breath away。
我記得呀，我記得：我出生的那間屋子， 早晨，陽(yáng)光從小窗進(jìn)來(lái)窺視； 他從不早來(lái)片刻， 也不多留半晌， 但現在，我常愿黑夜帶走我的呼吸。
I remember, I remember the rose red and white, the violet and the lily-cups— those flowers made of light! The lilacs where the robin built, and where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday,— the tree is living yet!
I remember, I remember where I used to swing, and thought the air must rush as fresh to swallows on the wing; my spirit flew in feathers then that is so heavy now, and summer pools could hardly cool the fever on my brow。
I remember, I remember the fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops were close against the sky: it was a childish ignorance, but now this little joy to know I’m farther off from heaven than when I was a boy。