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A cricket shrills in the grass.
一只蟋蟀在草丛中长鸣。
I think of poets and musicians.
我想起了诗人和音乐家。
Of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and of Shakespeare, whose Lorenzo declaims in The Merchant of Venice, How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
想起了贝多芬的《月光奏鸣曲》，以及莎士比亚笔下《威尼斯商人》中洛伦佐的话：月光沉睡在这岸边多么甜美！
Here will we sit and let sounds of music/Creep in our ears.
我们坐在这里，让音乐之声/潜入我们的耳内。
I wonder if their verse and music, like the music of crickets, are in some way voices of the moon.
我不知道他们的诗句和乐曲，以及蟋蟀的歌声，是否都可算作月亮的微语。
With such thoughts, my citified confusions melt into the quiet of the night.
想到这些，我那被喧嚣的城市扰乱了的心融化在夜的幽静之中。
Lovers and poets find deeper meaning at night, when we are all apt to pose deeper questions,about our origins and destinies.
我们都倾向于问一些关于生命的起源和命运的深刻问题，恋人和诗人往往在夜里能找到生活更深刻的意义。
We indulge in riddles, rather than in the impersonal geometries that govern the day-lit world.
在夜里，我们沉溺于难解的谜团中，而不是那些统治着白天世界的无关个人的几何学理论。
We become philosophers and mystics.
在夜里，我们都成了哲学家和神秘主义者。
At moonrise, as we slow our minds to the pace of the heavens, enchantment steals over us.
月出之时，当我们放慢自己的思想，让它跟天国的节奏同步，一种心醉神迷的感觉会流遍全身。
We open the vents of feeling, and exercise parts of our minds that reason locks away by day.
我们会打开情感的窗口，会让白天被理智锁住的那部分思绪尽情奔涌。
We hear, across the distances, murmurs of ancient hunters and see anew the visions of poets and lovers of long ago.
我们能穿越时空，听见远古猎人的低语，再次看到很久以前的诗人与恋人眼中的景象。
