Birds all the sunny day
Flutter and quarrel
Here in the arbour-like
Tent of the laurel.
Here in the fork
The brown nest is seated;
Four little blue eggs
The mother keeps heated.
While we stand watching her
Staring like gabies,
Safe in each egg are the
Bird's little babies.
Soon the frail eggs they shall
Chip, and upspringing
Make all the April woods
Merry with singing.
Younger than we are,
O children, and frailer,
Soon in blue air they'll be,
Singer and sailor.
We, so much older,
Taller and stronger,
We shall look down on the
Birdies no longer.
They shall go flying
With musical speeches
High over head in the
Tops of the beeches.
In spite of our wisdom
And sensible talking,
We on our feet must go
Plodding and walking.
窝里的蛋
一整个艳阳天,
在凉亭似的
月桂树冠下,
小鸟叽喳个没完。
大树杈的中间
棕色的小巢里,
鸟妈妈正暖着
四只蓝色的小蛋。
我们站在那儿
呆呆地望着她,
一个个鸟蛋里
安睡着小宝贝儿。
等脆蛋壳碎裂开,
它们就会跳出来;
四月的树林里
一片歌声多欢快。
小小鸟会飞上蓝天,
成为旅行家和歌手,
虽然它们比我们
还要弱小和年幼。
我们有高高的个头,
年纪大、身体又壮,
我们却没法再低头
把那些鸟娃娃来瞅。
它们将一飞入云,
发出悦耳的歌声,
高高地越过
山毛榉树顶。
而我们虽然脑子灵,
串串话儿说得分明,
却还是得慢吞吞
用两条小腿步行。
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