Stephen Crane
I'm standing on high,
See, below, many demons.
Run, jump,
Revel in sin.
One looked up and grinned,
And said, "Comrade! Brother! "
I'm standing on high.
Stephen Crane
I'm standing on high,
See a lot of ghosts down there.
Run, jump
Indulge in sin.
One looked up and grinned,
Say, "guys! Brothers! "
Nothing can stay in gold.
Robert Frost
The first green color of nature is gold,
Her hardest color? Hold on.
Her early leaf was a flower;
But only for one hour.
And then the leaves faded? Leave.
So Eden fell into sorrow,
So dawn came to day.
There is no gold left.
There is no gold left.
Robert Frost
The first touch of green in nature is gold,
It is also the color that she can't keep.
Her first leaf is like a flower;
However, it can only last for a moment.
Then, like a flower, the new leaf degenerates into the old one.
Therefore, the Garden of Eden fell into sorrow,
The dawn lasted until dawn.
Time is as precious as gold, and it is hard to keep it.
3. The first picture
Edna Saint Vincent Millay
My candle burns at both ends;
It won't last overnight;
But ah, my enemy, oh, my friend-
It gives off lovely light!
The first picture
Edna St.Vincent Millay
My candle burns at both ends;
After all, it will not last until dawn;
But, my enemies, my friends-
How wonderful the light it emits!
4. I am nobody! Who are you?
Emily Dickinson
I am nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then we are a couple. Don't say it!
Will they be exiled? We, you know.
How boring it is to be a big shot!
How open, like a frog.
Tell your name all day.
Go to an enviable swamp!
I am nobody. Who are you?
Emily Dickinson
I am nobody! Who are you?
You're nobody, too?
Then we are a couple-don't make any noise!
They'll crowd us out-look out!
How boring it is to be a big shot!
How ostentatious-like a frog
Facing the small puddle of appreciation
Show off your name all day!
5. Trees
Joyce kilmer
I don't think I'll see it again
A lovely poem like a tree.
A tree, its hungry mouth is pressed.
By the sweet breasts of the earth;
A tree that looks at God all day,
Raise her leafy arm to pray;
A tree that may wither in summer.
A nest of robins in her hair;
Whose chest does the snow lie on?
He lives close to the rain.
Only a fool like me can write poetry,
But only God can build a tree.
tree
Joyce kilmer
I don't think I will ever see it.
A poem is as lovely as a tree.
A tree with her hungry lips pressed on it.
Sweet milk is flowing on the earth;
Tree, she looks up at the sky all day,
Hold up leafy arms and pray;
In summer, there will be a nest of robins
Perched on the hair of a tree;
In winter, there is snow on the chest of trees.
She gets along well with the rain.
A fool like me can write poetry,
But trees can only be created by God.