The Grasshopper and the Cricket
Keats
The poetry of the earth/never dies:
The Grasshopper
< p>When all the birds are faint from the sun,Hidden in the shady woods, there is a sound
Wandering in the hedges around the freshly cut grass.
That is the music of the Grasshopper! It strives to be first
Intoxicated with the luxury of midsummer, it never feels its joy disappear. Once it sings, When I was tired, I rested comfortably in the middle of the pleasant grass.
The poetry of the earth never stops:
On a lonely/winter night, when the frost condenses/a tranquility springs from the hearth
The song of crickets, in the gradually rising heating,
In drowsiness, people feel that sound
It seems that / it is the grasshopper / chirping on the grassy mountain.