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There is a hill near my home that I often climb at night.
在我家的附近有座小山， 我常在晚间爬上山去。
The noise of the city is a far-off murmur.
此时，城市的喧嚣成了遥远的低语。
In the hush of dark I share the cheerfulness of crickets and the confidence of owls.
在这黑夜的静谧中，我尽情地分享蟋蟀的欢乐，感受猫头鹰的自信。
But it is the drama of the moonrise that I come to see.
不过，我上山是来看月出的。
For that restores in me a quiet and clarity that the city spends too freely.
因为这可以让我的内心重新感到被城市消耗殆尽的平静与清新。
From this hill I have watched many moons rise.
在这座山上，我欣赏过许多次月亮升起的景象。
Each one had its own mood.
每一次月的姿容性情都不同。
There have been broad, confident harvest moons in autumn;
秋天，满月如轮，充满自信；
shy, misty moons in spring;
春天，月亮清雾迷蒙羞羞答答；
lonely, winter moons rising into the utter silence of an ink-black sky and smoke-smudged orange moons over the dry fields of summer.
冬天，银白色的月亮挂在漆黑的、悄无声息的夜空中，显得那样孤寂；夏天，桔黄色的月似被烟尘笼罩，俯瞰干燥的田野。
Each, like fine music, excited my heart and then calmed my soul.
每一种月亮，都像美妙的音乐，颤动我的心灵，令我的灵魂平静。
