Smoking his pipe of clay, 悠闲地抽着陶制烟斗，

　　While his hale old wife with busy care, 他硬朗的年迈妻子，

　　Was clearing the dinner away; 忙碌收拾着杯盘狼藉。

　　A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes, 蓝眼睛可爱的小姑娘，

　　On her grandfather's knee, was catching flies. 趴在爷爷膝上捉蜻蜓。

　　The old man laid his hand on her head, 老人摩挲孙女的头，

　　With a tear on his wrinkled face, 满脸皱纹，泪水扑簌在流。

　　He thought how often her mother, dead, 孩子的妈妈去世不久，

　　Had sat in the selfsame place; 好像还坐在从前地方。

　　As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye, “不要抽烟！”孩子开口说话，

　　"Don't smoke!" said the child, "how it makes you cry!" “你怎么哭了，爷爷？”

　　The house dog lay stretched out on the floor, 趴在午后荫凉地上，

　　Where the shade, afternoons, used to steal; 惬意打盹的老狗；

　　The busy old wife by the open door was turning the spinning wheel, 片刻不得空闲的老妇人，门前，吱呀呀纺着棉花。

　　And the old brass clock on the manteltree, 壁炉楣顶上古老铜钟，

　　Had plodded along to almost three. 快到三点的时针在爬。

　　Still the farmer sat in his easy-chair, 老人还躺在休闲椅上，

　　While close to his heaving breast, 他呼吸急促，神色安详，

　　The moistened brow and the cheek so fair of his sweet grandchild were pressed; 饱经沧桑的脸颊沾满泪渍，怀里抱着他可爱的孙女，

　　His head bent down, all her soft hair lay; 头发蓬松，脑袋耷拉，

　　Fast asleep were they both on that summer day. 夏日午后，祖孙俩都睡着啦。