Chapter 1: Pebble
Pebble is a perfect creation, equal to itself.
Pay attention to its limitations, it is completely full.
Pebble-like meaning, his fragrance will not remind people of anything.
It won't scare anything away, and it won't arouse desire.
It smells cold, just and full of dignity.
When I held it, I felt deep regret.
Its noble body is soaked by a false temperature-pebbles will not be tamed.
In the end, they will all look at us.
With calm and clear eyes
Appreciation: After reading the poem Pebble by Polish poet Zbignev Herbert, we can understand the complete meaning of self. The poem begins with a calm tone: "Pebble is a perfect creation". Perfection is a word with extreme meaning, and it seems that it should not be used to decorate pebbles. Pebbles are so common that the strange combination of the word reminds people of pebbles.
Chapter 2: "Love Life"
I don't think about whether I can succeed or not. Since I have chosen a distant place, I only care about bitterness and difficulty.
I don't think about whether I can win love. Since you love roses, tell your heart bravely.
I don't think about whether there will be cold wind and rain behind me. Since the goal is the horizon, all I can leave to the world is the back.
I don't think about whether the future is flat or muddy. As long as you love life, everything is expected.
Appreciation: If you want to succeed, you must implement it, and there will inevitably be many storms in the process of action. However, perhaps it is because of these things that hinder your progress that you can enrich your path. Go straight ahead. Everything can't go smoothly. It also lacks beauty.
Because the life you have experienced is beautiful. If you want to be successful, to have your own stage, and to add colorful colors to your long or short life, let's move forward together, accompanied by wind and rain. The poet believes that as long as there is love in the heart and love for life, all good results can be expected.
Chapter III: Youth
All the endings have been written, all the tears have started, but suddenly I forget what a beginning this is.
In that ancient summer that is gone forever, no matter how I pursue it, young you just pass by like a cloud.
And your smiling face is extremely shallow and pale, and gradually disappears into the haze after sunset.
Then I opened the yellow title page, and fate bound it badly.
I read and reread with tears in my eyes, but I have to admit that youth is a book that is too hasty.
Appreciation: the journey of life is almost over, the prospect will not change, and youth has not been fully enjoyed. In confusion, youth is over. The poem is full of long regrets. Because the battle between beauty and time is always a losing battle, the poet "has to admit that youth is a hasty book", and tears filled his eyes.