自从我的稚气可以在大自然的画册上歇息，自从我稚嫩的舌头能说出我们的吟游诗人唱过的主题，长久以来，他们甜美的歌声使我心醉神迷!但不要问我为什么喜欢吟游诗人。我知道我所唱的许多东西，都是成形的，只会消逝;我知道夏天的花与叶，光与影都是短暂的，它们所照亮的心灵，在它们面前，可能会被泥土所包裹!我不知道我为什么喜欢唱诗。有那么几个人，我的吟游诗人的希望，会亲切地唤起他们的微笑和赞美;但是，在这几个人当中，死神也许会用沉默印住一些人的嘴唇;有些人可能会放弃友谊，不再听我的歌。不要问，不要问我为什么喜欢吟游诗人。 The sweetest song that minstrels sing, Will charm not Joy to tarrying; The greenest bay that earth can grow, Will shelter not in burning woe; A thousand voices will not cheer, When one is mute that aye is dear! -- Is there, alas! no reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. I do not know! The turf is green Beneath the rain's fast-dropping sheen, Yet asks not why that deeper hue Doth all its tender leaves renew; -- And I, like-minded, am content, While music to my soul is sent, To question not the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. Years pass -- my life with them shall pass: And soon, the cricket in the grass And summer bird, shall louder sing Than she who owns a minstrel's string. Oh then may some, the dear and few, Recall her love, whose truth they knew; When all forget to question why She had delight in minstrelsy!