Springs are not alway the same. In some years, April bursts up Virginnia hills in one prodigious leap-and all the stage is filled at once, whole chorusesof tulips, arabesques of forsythia,cadenzas of flowering plum. The tress grow leaves overnight.
春不總是千篇一律的。有時候，四月一個健步就躍上了弗吉尼亞的小山丘。頓時，整個舞臺活躍起來：郁金香們引吭高歌，連翹花翩翩起舞，梅花表演起了獨奏。樹木也在一夜之間披上了新綠。

In other years, spring tiptoes in. It pauses, overcome by shyness, like my grandchild at the door, peeping in, ducking out of sight, giggling in the hallway."I know you're out there,"I cry."Come in!" And April slips into our arms.
有時候，春又悄然來臨。它欲前又止，羞澀靦腆，就像我的小孫女，倚在門口，偷偷往里瞅，又一下子跑開了，不見蹤影，從門廳傳出她咯咯的笑聲。我喊一聲：“我知道你在那兒，進來吧!”于是四月便倏地一下飛進我們懷中。

The dogwood bud, pale green, is inlaid with russet markings. Within the perfect cup a score of clustered seeds are nestled. One examins the bud in awe: Where were those seeds a month ago? The apples display their milliner's scraps of ivory silk,orse-tinged. All the sleeping things wake up-primorse, baby iris, bulr phlox. The earth warms - you can smell it, feel it, crumble April in your hands.
山茱萸的花骨朵兒嫩綠嫩綠的，鑲著赤褐色的花邊。在那漂亮的花萼里，竟穩(wěn)穩(wěn)地簇?fù)碇鴰资w小種子。我們不禁要驚羨地問一句：一個月前這些種子還在哪兒呢?蘋果樹則像賣帽人，向人們展示著他帽子上那一片片微帶點玫瑰紅的乳白色絲緞。所有熟睡的都醒了——櫻草花、小蝴蝶花、藍(lán)夾竹桃。大地頁暖和起來了——你可以聞到四月的氣息，感覺到它那股馨香，把它捧在手中賞玩。

Look to the rue anemone, if you will, or the pea patch, or to the stubborn weed that thrusts its shoulders through a city street. This is how it was, is now, and ever shall be, the world without end. In the serene certainty of spring recurring, who can fear the distant fall?
去看看白頭翁花，如果你愿意，再去看看豌豆畦，或是那樣倔強地將手臂伸過城市街道的野草。它們從前是這樣，現(xiàn)在是這樣，將來還會是這樣，這是個永不停息的世界。當(dāng)我們發(fā)現(xiàn)，春已切切實實地回來了，在恬靜之中，誰還會害怕遙遠(yuǎn)的秋天呢?

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