前 言 罗伯特路易斯斯蒂文森（Robert Louis Stevenson，18501894），英国著名小说家、诗人、散文家。1850年11月13日，斯蒂文森出生在英国的爱丁堡。1867年，他入爱丁堡大学学习，先攻读土木工程，不久改学法律，1875年成为一名律师。他自幼爱好文学，大学毕业后便转向文学创作。在短暂的一生中，斯蒂文森创作了大量散文、随笔、小说、游记、儿童文学和评论等。他的作品充满浪漫情调，被认为是19世纪末新浪漫主义文学的代表。1878年，他出版了游记《内河航行》，次年又出版了《驴背旅程》。斯蒂文森出版了许多有重要影响的冒险小说，其中包括《新天方夜谭》（1882）、《金银岛》（1883）、《化身博士》（1886）、《绑架》（1886）、《快乐的人们》（1887）等。1888年，因为健康原因，斯蒂文森同夫人前往太平洋上的萨摩亚岛，1894年12月3日在该岛去世。除此之外，1885年斯蒂文森为孩子们出版了韵律十足的诗集《一个孩子的诗园》，该诗集在英语国家产生了巨大的影响，一直作为孩子了解英语韵律、丰富音感的学习用书。基于这个原因，我们决定翻译《一个孩子的诗园》，并采用英汉双语的形式出版。本书中文译文由季杰组织编译。参加本书故事素材搜集整理及编译工作的还有纪飞、赵雪、刘乃亚、蔡红昌、陈起永、熊建国、程来川、徐平国、龚桂平、付泽新、熊志勇、胡贝贝、王茜、张灵羚、张玉瑶、付建平、汪疆玮、王卉媛等。限于我们的科学、人文素养和英语水平，书中难免会有不当之处，衷心希望读者朋友批评指正。
第3章花园里的光阴 1．黑夜与白天
金色的辰光已经过去，
穿过那紧闭着的大门，
孩童与花园，花朵与太阳，
一切的一切都在消亡。
当建筑的阴影逐渐落下，
当日光开始暗淡，
在夜色的笼罩下，
一切的一切都在消散。
花园变得暗淡，雏菊闭上眼，
3 Garden Days
I Night and Day
When the golden day is done,
Through the closing portal,
Child and garden, flower and sun,
Vanish all things mortal.
As the building shadows fall
As the rays diminish,
Under evenings cloak they all
Roll away and vanish.
Garden darkened, daisy shut,
床上的孩童，全都沉沉安睡
路边的萤火虫，
还有破烂堆里的小老鼠。
房子在黑暗中闪亮，
父母移动着蜡烛，
神秘的黑夜彻底降临，
转动了卧室的把手。
终于白日来临，
从那东方破晓，
在篱笆和金雀花儿旁，
醒来的是酣睡的小鸟。
黑暗中的轮廓越来越清晰，
房屋、树木和篱笆，
一只麻雀的翅膀，
正敲打着窗架。
这些会惊醒打哈欠的女仆；
Child in bed, they slumber
Glow-worm in the hallway rut,
Mice among the lumber.
In the darkness houses shine,
Parents move the candles;
Till on all the night divine
Turns the bedroom handles.
Till at last the day begins
In the east a-breaking,
In the hedges and the whins
Sleeping birds a-waking.
In the darkness shapes of things,
Houses, trees and hedges,
Clearer grow; and sparrows wings
Beat on window ledges.
These shall wake the yawning maid;
她也许会打开门
发现花园地上的露珠，
还有来临的清晨。
我的花园又重新活了过来，
涂满碧绿鲜红的色彩，
就和昨夜的窗外，
花园突然消失一样快。
昨夜花园就像是一个玩具，
被关在了门外，
现在我又看到，
它在晴空下焕发光彩。
每一条小径，每一块花圃，
每一簇玫瑰，
每一支蓝色勿忘我，
当露珠小憩在它们身上，
起来吧！它们会嚷，
She the door shall open
Finding dew on garden glade
And the morning broken.
There my garden grows again
Green and rosy painted,
As at eve behind the pane
From my eyes it fainted.
Just as it was shut away,
Toy-like, in the even,
Here I see it glow with day
Under glowing heaven.
Every path and every plot,
Every blush of roses,
Every blue forget-me-not
Where the dew reposes,
Up! they cry, the day is come
白天来到了含笑的山谷：
我们敲响了晨鼓，
伙伴们，快加入我们的队伍！
On the smiling valleys：
We have beat the morning drum;
Playmate, join your allies!
II Nest Eggs
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
那些像小宝宝一样睁着眼，
安全地睡在鸟蛋里，
是鸟儿的小娃娃。
很快它们就会啄碎鸟蛋，
慷慨地闹个不停；
让整个四月的森林，
都充满了欢欣的歌曲。
哦，小鸟儿们，
尽管比我们更脆弱，更年幼；
很快它们即将成为，
蓝天里的歌手，和水手。
我们比它们大了许多，
更高，更强壮，
我们不能再低头看着，
那些鸟娃娃。
它们会飞上蓝天，
Staring like gabies,
Safe in each egg are the
Birds 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 the blue air theyll be,
Singer and sailor.
We, so much older,
Taller and stronger,
We shall look down on the
Birdies no longer.
They shall go flying
伴随着悦耳的鸣声；
高高地盘旋在那，
山毛榉的树顶。
尽管我们有着智慧，
和如珠的妙语，
可是我们只能靠双腿，
慢慢地迈着步履。
With musical speeches
High overhead in the
Tops of the beeches.
In spite of our wisdom
And sensible talking,
We on our feet must go
Plodding and walking.
III The Flowers
All the names I know from nurse：
Gardeners garters, Shepherds purse,
Bachelors buttons, Ladys smock,
And the Lady Hollyhock.
Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames
These must all be fairy names!
Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies weave a house;
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver fairies climb!
Fair are grown-up peoples trees,
But the fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so tall,
I should live for good and all.
IVSummer Sun
Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivys inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.
V The Dumb Soldier
When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found,
And hid a soldier underground.
Spring and daisies came apace;
Grasses hide my hiding place;
Grasses run like a green sea
Oer the lawn up to my knee.
他就躺在草丛下边，
目光定定地往上，
穿着红制服，带着刺杀枪，
直直地冲向星星和太阳。
等到青草像稻谷一般熟透，
等到镰刀再磨快了刃口，
等到草地又经历了整齐的修剪，
我的洞才会再一次出现。
我会找到他，不用担心，
我会找到我的娃娃士兵；
不管一切如何来去，
我总能找到我的哑兵。
他还活着，这个小东西，
活在春天繁茂的森林里；
假如他能照实和我说话，
他也许干着我喜欢干的事情。
Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to the sun.
When the grass is ripe like grain,
When the scythe is stoned again,
When the lawn is shaven clear,
Then my hole shall reappear.
I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my grenadier;
But for all thats gone and come,
I shall find my soldier dumb.
He has lived, a little thing,
In the grassy woods of spring;
Done, if he could tell me true,
Just as I should like to do.
他见过星光灿烂的夜晚，
也见过繁花盛开的春天；
还有那些小仙子匆匆而过，
就在这森林的草从旁边。
在寂静中他曾听见，
嗡嗡叫着的蜜蜂和瓢虫。
当他独自躺着的时候，
蝴蝶就从他的头顶飞过。
他一个字都说不出口，
也不知道任何东西。
我得让他躺在架子上，
自己来给他编个故事。
He has seen the starry hours
And the springing of the flowers;
And the fairy things that pass
In the forests of the grass.
In the silence he has heard
Talking bee and ladybird,
And the butterfly has flown
Oer him as he lay alone.
Not a word will he disclose,
Not a word of all he knows.
I must lay him on the shelf,
And make up the tale myself.
VIAutumn Fires
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
VII The Gardener
The gardener does not love to talk.
He makes me keep the gravel walk;
And when he puts his tools away,
He locks the door and takes the key.
Away behind the currant row,
Where no one else but cook may go,
Far in the plots, I see him dig,
Old and serious, brown and big.
He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,
Nor wishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
And never seems to want to play.
Silly gardener! summer goes,
And winter comes with pinching toes,
When in the garden bare and brown
You must lay your barrow down.
Well now, and while the summer stays,
To profit by these garden days
O how much wiser you would be
To play at Indian wars with me!
VIII Historical Associations
Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground
That now you smoke your pipe around,
Has seen immortal actions done
And valiant battles lost and won.
Here we had best on tip-toe tread,
While I for safety march ahead,
For this is that enchanted ground
Where all who loiter slumber sound.
Here is the sea, here is the sand,
Here is simple Shepherds Land,
Here are the fairy hollyhocks,
And there are Ali Babas rocks.
But yonder, see! apart and high,
Frozen Siberia lies; where I,
With Robert Bruce and William Tell,
Was bound by an enchanters spell.
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