Author: Ye Saining
Sagarna, Sagarna, my girl!
Maybe it's because I come from the north,
I want to talk about the vastness of this field,
Talk about the undulating wheat waves in the moonlight.
Sagarna, Sagarna, my girl!
Maybe it's because I come from the north,
The moon there is a hundred times brighter than here.
Shiraz, no matter how beautiful this place is,
Beauty is not as vast as Liang Zan.
Maybe it's because I'm from the north.
I want to talk about the vastness of that field.
The black wheat field feeds me with long curly hair.
You can wrap it around your finger at will—
I will never feel pain.
I want to talk about the vastness of that field.
Talk about the undulating wheat waves in the moonlight.
Look at my curly hair-just like it.
Laugh, smile, beloved girl.
But you can't remind me-
Think back to the undulating wheat waves in the moonlight.
Sagarna, Sagarna, my girl!
There is a young girl in the far north.
That man is so much like you,
She may be thinking about me. ...
Sagarna, Sagarna, my girl!
Theme: Persian lyrics (option 3)
Author: Ye Saining
"Why is the moonlight so dark?
When it shines on the gardens and walls of horasan.
It's like I'm walking in a field in Russia,
Covered with a curtain of rustling fog ",
I used to be like this, dear lesbian,
Ask the silent cypress at night,
However, the cypress didn't say a word.
Hold your head up proudly.
"Why is the moonlight full of sadness?"
I asked the flowers in the quiet forest,
The flower replied, "From the sadness of the rose,
You can find out the ins and outs of this matter. "
Rose petals fell to the ground.
Roses whisper to me with petals:
"Your Sally Jia nai is gentle to others,
Sagarna kissed another couple. "
She said, "This Russia is invisible. ...
The heart needs songs, but songs need life and body ... "
That's why the moon shines dim,
That's why the moonlight is so pale and powerless.
I've seen a lot of things that changed my mind,
Tears, pain, some people expect, some people despise.
……
But lavender night on earth
Still beautiful forever.
Theme: country
Author: Pushkin
I salute you, your lonely corner,
Peace, labor and inspiration live here,
Here, intoxicated in the arms of happiness,
I flow away quietly like water.
I belong to you: I abandoned the maze of coquettish women,
I gave up luxurious banquets and vain happiness,
Dedicated to the whispers in the forest and the tranquility in the wild,
A partner who is committed to freedom, happiness and meditation.
I belong to you-I love this beautiful garden,
The blooming flowers in the garden and the coolness of habits,
I like this meadow dotted with fragrant hay.
Clear streams gurgled in the bushes.
In front of my eyes, there are vivid color pictures everywhere:
In this color picture, I see two light blue lakes.
The fisherman's sail sparkled in the twinkling lake light,
On the other side of the lake are rolling hills and winding farmland.
There are sporadic houses and farmhouses in the distance.
There are herds of cattle and sheep foraging on the wet shore of the lake.
The drying room is smoking, and the windmill of the mill is spinning;
Everywhere presents the scene of abundance and labor. ...
I belong here and get rid of the fetters of worldly glitz.
I'm learning how to find down-to-earth happiness,
I obey the laws of nature with a free heart,
I no longer listen to the endless complaints of those ignorant people.
I learned to pray with compassion and patience,
Instead of admiring those villains and fools,
Let them enjoy the reputation of injustice.
Prophets of all ages, please point out the maze!
In this solemn seclusion,
Listen to your sweet voice more truly.
It dispels the sad dream of laziness,
It ignited my desire to work,
Your meditation can stimulate creativity,
Is developing and growing in my heart.
However, an ominous thought is full of sadness:
In this thriving field and mountains,
A human friend looked sadly,
Everywhere is the sight of pain and ignorance.
Ignore tears, ignore moans,
The bane of these doomed people,
These cruel and savage lords,
Just waving their violent whips and vines,
Seize farmers' labor, property and time.
Weak slaves succumbed to other people's plowshares,
Dragging ridges and ditches with difficulty,
Bow to the whip of the heartless master.
Everyone here has been dragging a heavy shackle all his life.
I dare not give birth to a glimmer of hope and desire,
The young girls here are as beautiful as flowers,
Just for ruthless little people to destroy at will.
In the eyes of elderly parents, the next generation will have a rest.
Is the dependence of life, is the person who works,
But they have been breeding in their ancestors' huts for generations,
But they are just suffering slaves driven away from generation to generation.
Oh, I hope my voice can shake people's hearts!
Why is there only futile enthusiasm burning in my chest?
And fate didn't give me the gift of generosity and eloquence?
Ah, friends! Am I lucky enough to see it?
The tsar liberated the people from the shackles of slavery,
One day, over our motherland.
Has the brilliant dawn of enlightenment and freedom broken out?