妇女节诗歌：The First Jasmines最初的茉莉

The First Jasmines
妇女节诗歌：最初的茉莉
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
啊,这些茉莉,这些洁白的茉莉!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines.
我依稀记得我的双手第一次捧满了这些茉莉花.这些洁白的茉莉花的时候.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
我曾爱那阳光,爱那天空还有那绿色的大地;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight;
我曾在漆黑的午夜聆听那河水淙淙的呢喃;
Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the lonely waste,
秋日的夕阳,在荒原道路的转弯处迎接我,
like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover.
好像新娘掀起她的面纱迎接她的爱人.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held in my hand when I was a child.
然而,我回忆起孩提时第一次捧在手里的洁白茉莉,心理充满了甜蜜的回忆.
Many a glad day has come in my life,and I have laughed with merrymakers on festival nights.
我生平有过许多快乐的日子,在节日盛典的夜晚,我曾经与狂欢者一同大笑.
On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song.
在细雨霏霏的清晨,我吟唱过许多闲散的歌谣.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven by the band of love.
我颈上也曾戴着爱人用手织就的"芭库拉丝"黄昏花环.
Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.
然而,我回忆起孩提是第一次捧着手里的洁白茉莉,心里充满了甜蜜的回忆.

妇女节诗歌：最初的茉莉
啊,这些茉莉,这些洁白的茉莉!
我依稀记得我的双手第一次捧满了这些茉莉花.这些洁白的茉莉花的时候.
我曾爱那阳光,爱那天空还有那绿色的大地;
我曾在漆黑的午夜聆听那河水淙淙的呢喃;
秋日的夕阳,在荒原道路的转弯处迎接我,
好像新娘掀起她的面纱迎接她的爱人.
然而,我回忆起孩提时第一次捧在手里的洁白茉莉,心理充满了甜蜜的回忆.
我生平有过许多快乐的日子,在节日盛典的夜晚,我曾经与狂欢者一同大笑.
在细雨霏霏的清晨,我吟唱过许多闲散的歌谣.
我颈上也曾戴着爱人用手织就的"芭库拉丝"黄昏花环.
然而,我回忆起孩提是第一次捧着手里的洁白茉莉,心里充满了甜蜜的回忆.

The First Jasmines
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight;
Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the lonely waste,
like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held in my hand when I was a child.
Many a glad day has come in my life,and I have laughed with merrymakers on festival nights.
On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven by the band of love.
Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.