Translate the following text into Chinese.

I thought that it was a Sunday morning in May, that it was Easter Sunday, and as yet very early in the morning. I was standing at the door of my own cottage. Right before me lay the very scene which could really be commanded from that situation, but exalted, as was usual, and solemnized by the power of dreams. There were the same mountains, and the same lovely valley at their feet; but the mountains were raised to more than Alpine height, and there was interspace far larger between them of meadows and forest lawns; the hedges were rich with white roses; and no living creature was to be seen except that in the green churchyard there were cattle tranquilly reposing upon the graves, and particularly round about the grave of a child whom I had tenderly loved, just as I had really seen them, a little before sunrise in the same summer, when that child died.

 

参考译文：

我想起来了，那是五月一个星期天的早晨，是复活节礼拜日，天还未完全破晓。我伫立在自家小屋的门口，眼前的景色正是从这个位置真正所能看到的景观，但由于梦幻的力量，显得超凡脱俗，庄严肃穆。梦境往往如此。群山依旧，群山脚下美丽的山谷依旧，但群山显得比阿尔卑斯山更加巍峨雄伟，群山之间显得更加开阔宽敞，其间草地错落，树篱上白色的玫瑰缠绕。看不见任何生物，只有苍翠的教堂庭院里，牛群静静地躺卧在墓地歇息，尤其是环卧在一座小孩的坟墓周围。此情此景，我曾在当年夏天朝阳露出光辉之前的片刻见过。我曾为这个小孩付出一腔柔情，她却在那年夏天离我而去。

 

说明：本文选自英国著名散文家托马斯・德・昆西（Thomas De Quincey，1785―1859）在《伦敦杂志》上发表的《一个英国鸦片烟民的自白》，试题中略有改动。