他住在山楂樹巷的一幢房子里,門口掩映玫瑰和忍冬;
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,整潔又簡樸,但充滿溫馨和愜意,他簡直忘了自己年事已高又貧窮。
"I need so little," he often said;
“我無所求,”他常說。
"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,我的朋友和親戚在陰間不會起訴我的。”很久以前,這個歡快的老先生說。
But the pleasantest times he had of all, Were the sociable hours he used to pass,
他的全部快活的時光就是那幾小時與人交流的時間,
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,他說,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.
“沒有朋友的人生不如死,”很久以前,這個歡快的老先生說。
The jolly old pedagogue's wrinkled face Melted all over in sunshiny smiles;
這個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,姿勢那般優(yōu)雅,咯咯一笑,呷了一口茶,像孩子般天真無邪地說著什么,直到整幢房子從地窖到瓦片都透著歡樂。