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In the pause towards the end of April, when the flowers seem to hesitate, the leaves make up their minds to come out.
寂靜的四月底，在花兒們躊躇不定的時候，葉子們一股腦地跑了出來。
For some time, at the very ends of the bare boughs of fig trees, spurts of pure green have been burning like cloven tongues of green fire vivid on the tips of the candelabrum.
一時間，純凈的綠色在無花果的樹枝尖冒出，好像燭臺頂那生動的綠色小火舌頭一樣在燃燒。
Now these spurts of green spread out, and begin to take the shape of hands, feeling for the air of summer.
現(xiàn)在，這團(tuán)綠焰伸展開來，變成小手的樣子，觸摸著夏天的氣息。
And tiny green figs are below them, like glands on the throat of a goat.
綠色無花果像一只山羊喉嚨的腺附下面。
Now the aspens on the hill are all remarkable with the translucent membranes of blood-veined leaves.
現(xiàn)在，山坡上白楊的葉子上有一層半透明薄膜的葉脈，顯得格外引人注目。
They are gold-brown, but not like autumn, rather like thin wings bats when like birds-call them birds-they wheel in clouds against the setting sun, and the sun glows through the stretched membrane of their wings, as through thin, brown-red stained glass.
與秋天不同，葉子是金棕色的，像是薄翼的蝙蝠，如同鳥兒一樣—我們暫時就叫它們鳥吧—在落日的余暉中，葉子在云層里涌動，太陽照射在這薄翼拉緊似的薄膜上，仿佛透過棕紅色的彩繪玻璃。
This is the red sap of summer, not the red dust of autumn.
這是夏天里樹葉旺盛時所特有的紅色樹液，并不意味著秋天的紅塵。
