First hour, first moment of your meeting me,

　　If bright or dim the season,

　　It might be summer or winter for aught I can say.

　　So unrecorded did it slip away,

　　So blind was I to see and foresee,

　　So dull to mark the budding of my tree

　　That would not blossom yet for many a May.

　　If only I could recollect it,

　　Such a day of days!

　　Let it come and go as traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;

　　It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;

　　If only now I could reed that touch,

　　First touch of hand in hand-Did one but know!

　　只因我疏忽大意,它悄然流逝不留痕迹,

　　只因我茫然无知，不曾留意亦未能预知,

　　只因我不以为然，未曾看到小树

　　过去了一个又一个五月，花儿都没有绽放。

　　多希望我能记住它,

　　那时光中的一日!我却放任它

　　如融雪般全然消逝；

　　它现在看似无足轻重,其实当时意味深长；

　　多希望我能重温那感觉,

　　第一次牵手的感觉——可我那时不懂啊!