by Charles Dickens
查爾斯?狄更斯
There is no month in the whole year, in which nature wears a more beautiful appearance than in the month of August. Spring has many beauties, and May is a fresh and blooming month, but the charms of this time of year are enhanced by their contrast with the winter season. August has no such advantage. It comes when we remember nothing but clear skies, green fields, and sweet-smelling flowers—when the recollection of snow, and ice, and bleak winds, has faded from our minds as completely as they have disappeared from the earth — and yet what a pleasant time it is! Orchards and cornfields ring with the hum of labours; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground; and the corn, piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in every light breath that sweeps above it, as if it wooed the sickle, tinges the landscape with a golden hue. A mellow softness appears to hang over the whole earth; the influence of the season seems to extend itself to the very wagon, whose slow motion across the well-reaped field, is perceptible only to the eye, but strikes with no harsh sound upon the ear.
一年之中,沒有任何一個(gè)月份的自然風(fēng)光比得過八月的風(fēng)采。春天美不勝收,而五月也是一個(gè)明媚清新、繁花似錦的月份,但這些時(shí)節(jié)的魅力是由于與冬天的對(duì)比而增強(qiáng)的。八月沒有這樣的優(yōu)勢(shì)。它來的時(shí)候,我們只記得明朗的天空、碧綠的田野,還有芳香四溢的花朵——記憶中的冰雪、刺骨的寒風(fēng)都已完全從我們的腦海中消逝,就仿佛它們?cè)诘厍蛏狭藷o蹤跡——然而八月是多么令人愜意的季節(jié)啊!果園和麥田到處都充溢著忙碌勞作的聲響;串串果實(shí)壓得果樹都彎下了腰,枝條低垂到地面;還有谷穗,有的一捆捆優(yōu)雅地堆擠在一起,有的迎風(fēng)招展,仿佛在向鐮刀求愛,它們給周圍的景致染上了一層金黃的色調(diào);整個(gè)大地似乎籠罩在醇香柔和的氣氛中;這秋季的氣氛似乎也影響了那些馬車,只有眼睛可以察覺到它們穿過收割過的田野緩慢移動(dòng),但耳旁卻寂靜無聲。