他住在山楂樹(shù)巷的一幢房子里,門(mén)口掩映玫瑰和忍冬;
His rooms were quiet, and neat, and plain, But a spirit of comfort there held reign, And made him forget he was old and poor.
他的房間靜謐,整潔又簡(jiǎn)樸,但充滿(mǎn)溫馨和愜意,他簡(jiǎn)直忘了自己年事已高又貧窮。
"I need so little," he often said;
“我無(wú)所求,”他常說(shuō)。
"And my friends and relatives here below Won't litigate over me when I am dead," Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago.
“我死時(shí),我的朋友和親戚在陰間不會(huì)起訴我的。”很久以前,這個(gè)歡快的老先生說(shuō)。
But the pleasantest times he had of all, Were the sociable hours he used to pass,
他的全部快活的時(shí)光就是那幾小時(shí)與人交流的時(shí)間,
With his chair tipped back to a neighbor's wall, Making an unceremonious call, Over a pipe and a friendly glass:
他的椅子向后抵著鄰家的墻,隨意叫人給他拿來(lái)煙斗和花鏡
This was the finest pleasure, he said, Of the many he tasted here below:
這是最純粹的快樂(lè),他說(shuō),他在那里已經(jīng)嘗試很多回了:
"Who has no cronies had better be dead," Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago.
“沒(méi)有朋友的人生不如死,”很久以前,這個(gè)歡快的老先生說(shuō)。
The jolly old pedagogue's wrinkled face Melted all over in sunshiny smiles;
這個(gè)歡快的老先生那張閃閃發(fā)光的臉綻出愉快的微笑;
He stirred his glass with an old-school grace, Chuckled, and sipped, and prattled apace, Till the house grew merry from cellar to tiles.
他扶了一下花鏡,姿勢(shì)那般優(yōu)雅,咯咯一笑,呷了一口茶,像孩子般天真無(wú)邪地說(shuō)著什么,直到整幢房子從地窖到瓦片都透著歡樂(lè)。