夏天的鸟儿飞到我的窗口，唱着歌，又飞走了。秋天不唱歌的黄叶，叹息着飘落在地。
Stray birds of summer come to my Windows to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.
不，除非她想起自己的母亲，想起她坐在那儿掌管家务的地方，否则她不会发出那样的叹息。
No, except when she thought of her mother, and remembered where she had been used to sit and preside, she had no sigh of that description to heave.
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