山坡上的橡树林，树叶凋落，风儿嚎啕过处，犹如猛虎下山，威风振振。花岗石崖上，青苔斑斑，也似奇异画面；银松林里，白色茫茫。

I can roar through the leafless oaks and shout down the hillside, and it can murmur in the white pines rooted among the granite ledges where lichen makes strange hieroglyphics.

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于是夜莺为橡树唱起了歌，她美妙的声音仿佛从银坛里涌出的泉水。

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.

youdao

于是夜莺为橡树唱起了歌，她美妙的声音仿佛从银坛里涌出的泉水。

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.

youdao