（原文）
The Grasshopper and the Cricket
John Keats(1795-1821)
The poetry of earth is never dead.
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead
That is the Grasshopper’s.He takes the lead
In summer luxury; he has never done
With his delights, for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever，
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.
（译文）
蟋蟀赞歌
济慈(1795-1821)
四季佳音终不绝，
千秋不变似日月：
骄阳似火难相抗，
嘤呖啁啾何处闻?
独闻蚱蜢领喝欢，
藏身阴凉大树间，
此起彼伏草上飞。
盛夏灼灼亦陶然，
千鸟百兽它不群。
欣欣然兮未知倦，
自娱自乐自得中。
纵使寻欢需有度，
惬然少憩芳草间。
且歌且行且诵吟，
流转亘古到永恒：
冬夜漫漫空余静，
静寂无声寒霜凝，
蟋蟀吱吱奏欢歌，
逐时渐暖烤炉边；
睡意缱绻神游间，
此声入耳似昨天，
冬阳暖了夏虫鸣，
绿草绒绒小丘中。
