When all the birds were dazzled by the hot sun,
Hidden in the shady forest, there is a sound.
Floating on the branches around the newly cut grass,
That's the music of Guoguo! It competes first.
Indulge in the luxury of midsummer, it never feels it.
Your own happiness fades away, and once you get tired of singing,
They perched comfortably on the pleasant grass.
The song of the earth never stops;
On a lonely winter night, when the cold condenses
It's quiet, jumping back and forth on the fireplace.
Crickets' songs, in the rising heating,
In sleepiness, people feel the sound.
Like a grasshopper chirping on a grassy mountain.
This poem, Fruit and Cricket, is the work of British poet Keats.
John keats (1795- 182 1 year), an outstanding English poet at the end of 18, was also a representative poet of romanticism.