It might be summer or winter for aught I can say.
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it,
Such a day of days!
Let it come and go as traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could reed that touch,
First touch of hand in hand-Did one but know!
只因我疏忽大意,它悄然流逝不留痕迹,
只因我茫然无知，不曾留意亦未能预知,
只因我不以为然，未曾看到小树
过去了一个又一个五月，花儿都没有绽放。
多希望我能记住它,
那时光中的一日!我却放任它
如融雪般全然消逝；
它现在看似无足轻重,其实当时意味深长；
多希望我能重温那感觉,
第一次牵手的感觉——可我那时不懂啊!
