八月是多么令人惬意的季节啊！果园和麦田到处都充溢着忙碌劳作的声响；串串果实压得果树都弯下了腰，枝条低垂到地面；还有谷穗，有的一捆捆优雅地堆挤在一起，有的迎风招展，仿佛在向镰刀求爱，它们给周围的景致染上了一层金黄的色调；整个大地似乎笼罩在醇香柔和的气氛中。

 

August by Charles Dickens

 

There is no month in the whole year, in which nature wears a more beautiful appearance than in the month of August. Spring has many beauties, and May is a fresh and blooming month, but the charms of this time of year are enhanced1) by their contrast with the winter season. August has no such advantage. It comes when we remember nothing but clear skies, green fields, and sweet-smelling flowers—when the recollection2) of snow, and ice, and bleak3) winds, has faded from our minds as completely as they have disappeared from the earth — and yet what a pleasant time it is! Orchards and cornfields4) ring with the hum of labours; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground; and the corn5), piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in every light breath that sweeps above it, as if it wooed6) the sickle7), tinges8) the landscape with a golden hue9). A mellow softness appears to hang over the whole earth; the influence of the season seems to extend itself to the very wagon, whose slow motion across the well-reaped field, is perceptible10) only to the eye, but strikes with no harsh sound upon the ear.