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Each day this thought of Peace becomes more real and blessed.I can lie on this green hill and praise Creation that I am alive in a world of beauty.I can go to sleep up here with the coverlet of sunlight warm on my body，and not wake to that old dull misery.I can even dream with a light heart，for my fair dreams will not be spoiled by waking，and my bad dreams will be cured the moment I open my eyes.I can look up at that blue sky without seeing trailed across it a mirage of the long horror，a film picture of all the things that have been done by men to men.At last I can gaze up at it，limpid and blue，without a dogging melancholy；and I can gaze down at that far gleam of sea，knowing that there is no murk of murder on it any more.
我们思想之中的和平之感正变得日益清晰，与我们的幸福也联系得越来越紧密。此时的我已可以站在这座青山之上，为自己仍活在这样一个美好世界而感叹造物的美妙。我能在阳光的抚慰下安然入睡，而不致醒后再度陷入悲伤和绝望之中。我甚至可以欣然入睡，不必担心醒后好梦破灭；而且即使做了噩梦，只要睁开眼睛，一切就都会烟消云散。我可以抬头仰望碧蓝的晴空，而不会在刹时间瞥见哪里有一条拖曳着长尾的恐怖幻像，也不必担心看到人与人互相残杀的悲惨情形。我终于可以静静地凝望晴空，凝望着那澄清而又蔚蓝的晴空，再也不会时刻为痛苦所羁绊。我还可以眺望远方那波光滟滟的海面，而不必担心看到海面漂浮着屠杀后的血色。
And the flight of birds，the gulls and rooks and little brown wavering things which flit out and along the edge of the chalk-pits，is once more refreshment to me，utterly untempered .A merle is singing in a bramble thicket；the dew has not yet dried off the bramble leaves.A feather of a moon floats across the sky；the distance sends forth homely murmurs；the sun warms my cheeks.And all of this is pure joy.No hawk of dread and horror keeps swooping down and bearing off the little birds of happiness.No accusing conscience starts forth and beckons me away from pleasure.Everywhere is supreme and flawless beauty.Whether one looks at this tiny snailshell，marvellously chased and marked，a very elf’s horn whose open mouth is coloured rose；or gazes down at the flat land between here and the sea，wandering under the smile of the ‘afternoon sunlight，seeming almost to be alive，hedgeless，with its many watching trees，and silver gulls hovering above the mushroom-coloured “ploughs，”and fields green in manifold hues；whether one muses on this little pink daisy born so out of time，or watches that valley of brownrose-grey woods，under the drifting shadows of low-hanging chalky clouds—all is perfect，as only Nature can be perfect on a lovely day，when the mind of him who looks on her is at rest.
无论是天空中的飞鸟，还是地面上的白嘴鸭，或是往来于白垩坑边的棕色小东西，都会带给我无限欣慰，它们是那样自由自在、无拘无束。一只画眉正在一丛露珠未干的黑莓中啼鸣。轻如蝉翼的新月在天空中若隐若现，远方不时传来熟悉的声音，而晨曦正温暖着我的面颊。这一切让人如此愉悦。不见凶猛的苍鹰疾飞而下，把快乐的小鸟捉去，也不再有愧疚不安的心将我唤走。留下来的只有一个充满无限温馨的完美世界。此时环视四周，你会看到蜗牛那精致如雕镂画卷的甲壳，那童话故事中角端呈蔷薇色的纤纤细角；也会看到脚下延伸至远海的那平芜，它们浮游于午后阳光的灿烂笑容下，显得生机勃勃。这里没有树篱，但仍有许多苍翠的大树，以及滑翔在蘑菇色的耕地或田野之间的银白色海鸥：你可以在凝视那株小小的粉红色雏菊时发出其生不逢时的感叹，也可以关注棕、红、灰、褐的茂密林木在流云的暗影下树影斑驳的景象——一切都那么美好，却只有当风和日丽的天气和观者平和的心境合二为一时才能见到。
On this green hill I am nearer than I have been yet to realisation of the difference between war and peace.In our civilian lives hardly anything has been changed—we do not get more butter or more petrol，the garb and machinery of war still shroud us，journals still drip hate；but in our spirits there is all the difference between gradual dying and gradual recovery from sickness.
伫立于青山之上，我感到战争与和平之间的差距越发明显，认识也比以往更加透彻。在平静的生活中，一切似乎未曾发生多大改变——我们没有领到更多的奶油或更多的汽油，战争的阴影依然笼罩着我们，报刊杂志上依然充斥着敌意与仇恨，但我们在精神上以及情绪上都有显著的差别，一种久病后归于尘土，或逐渐恢复的巨大差别。（未完待续）
Each day this thought of Peace becomes more real and blessed.I can lie on this green hill and praise Creation that I am alive in a world of beauty.I can go to sleep up here with the coverlet of sunlight warm on my body，and not wake to that old dull misery.I can even dream with a light heart，for my fair dreams will not be spoiled by waking，and my bad dreams will be cured the moment I open my eyes.I can look up at that blue sky without seeing trailed across it a mirage of the long horror，a film picture of all the things that have been done by men to men.At last I can gaze up at it，limpid and blue，without a dogging melancholy；and I can gaze down at that far gleam of sea，knowing that there is no murk of murder on it any more.
我们思想之中的和平之感正变得日益清晰，与我们的幸福也联系得越来越紧密。此时的我已可以站在这座青山之上，为自己仍活在这样一个美好世界而感叹造物的美妙。我能在阳光的抚慰下安然入睡，而不致醒后再度陷入悲伤和绝望之中。我甚至可以欣然入睡，不必担心醒后好梦破灭；而且即使做了噩梦，只要睁开眼睛，一切就都会烟消云散。我可以抬头仰望碧蓝的晴空，而不会在刹时间瞥见哪里有一条拖曳着长尾的恐怖幻像，也不必担心看到人与人互相残杀的悲惨情形。我终于可以静静地凝望晴空，凝望着那澄清而又蔚蓝的晴空，再也不会时刻为痛苦所羁绊。我还可以眺望远方那波光滟滟的海面，而不必担心看到海面漂浮着屠杀后的血色。
And the flight of birds，the gulls and rooks and little brown wavering things which flit out and along the edge of the chalk-pits，is once more refreshment to me，utterly untempered .A merle is singing in a bramble thicket；the dew has not yet dried off the bramble leaves.A feather of a moon floats across the sky；the distance sends forth homely murmurs；the sun warms my cheeks.And all of this is pure joy.No hawk of dread and horror keeps swooping down and bearing off the little birds of happiness.No accusing conscience starts forth and beckons me away from pleasure.Everywhere is supreme and flawless beauty.Whether one looks at this tiny snailshell，marvellously chased and marked，a very elf’s horn whose open mouth is coloured rose；or gazes down at the flat land between here and the sea，wandering under the smile of the ‘afternoon sunlight，seeming almost to be alive，hedgeless，with its many watching trees，and silver gulls hovering above the mushroom-coloured “ploughs，”and fields green in manifold hues；whether one muses on this little pink daisy born so out of time，or watches that valley of brownrose-grey woods，under the drifting shadows of low-hanging chalky clouds—all is perfect，as only Nature can be perfect on a lovely day，when the mind of him who looks on her is at rest.
无论是天空中的飞鸟，还是地面上的白嘴鸭，或是往来于白垩坑边的棕色小东西，都会带给我无限欣慰，它们是那样自由自在、无拘无束。一只画眉正在一丛露珠未干的黑莓中啼鸣。轻如蝉翼的新月在天空中若隐若现，远方不时传来熟悉的声音，而晨曦正温暖着我的面颊。这一切让人如此愉悦。不见凶猛的苍鹰疾飞而下，把快乐的小鸟捉去，也不再有愧疚不安的心将我唤走。留下来的只有一个充满无限温馨的完美世界。此时环视四周，你会看到蜗牛那精致如雕镂画卷的甲壳，那童话故事中角端呈蔷薇色的纤纤细角；也会看到脚下延伸至远海的那平芜，它们浮游于午后阳光的灿烂笑容下，显得生机勃勃。这里没有树篱，但仍有许多苍翠的大树，以及滑翔在蘑菇色的耕地或田野之间的银白色海鸥：你可以在凝视那株小小的粉红色雏菊时发出其生不逢时的感叹，也可以关注棕、红、灰、褐的茂密林木在流云的暗影下树影斑驳的景象——一切都那么美好，却只有当风和日丽的天气和观者平和的心境合二为一时才能见到。
On this green hill I am nearer than I have been yet to realisation of the difference between war and peace.In our civilian lives hardly anything has been changed—we do not get more butter or more petrol，the garb and machinery of war still shroud us，journals still drip hate；but in our spirits there is all the difference between gradual dying and gradual recovery from sickness.
伫立于青山之上，我感到战争与和平之间的差距越发明显，认识也比以往更加透彻。在平静的生活中，一切似乎未曾发生多大改变——我们没有领到更多的奶油或更多的汽油，战争的阴影依然笼罩着我们，报刊杂志上依然充斥着敌意与仇恨，但我们在精神上以及情绪上都有显著的差别，一种久病后归于尘土，或逐渐恢复的巨大差别。（未完待续）