Winter has come, can spring be far behind?

If winter comes, spring will always come at once. "The original text of the poem" ode to the west wind "in Shelley's ode to the west wind is as follows: Oh, the wild west wind, the breath of autumn life! You are invisible, but the dead leaves are swept away by you, like ghosts meeting wizards, fleeing yellow, black, gray and red like a group of westerly winds suffering from tuberculosis. Oh, you drove the seeds of Ji to the dark winter bed, and they lay there, like the dead hole in the tomb, cold, deep and low. Unrestrained spirit, you travel everywhere; Destroyer and protector listen, and you listen! When the sky is in chaos, the floating clouds are torn away from the tangled branches of the sky and the ocean like dead leaves of the earth. Be the messengers of rain and electricity. They fall on the blue wave surface of your majestic spirit, like the fluttering hair of a crazy woman flashing, reaching the zenith of nine from the farthest and condensed edge of the sky, and the curly hair swaying everywhere for a thunderstorm. For a dying year, you sang coronach, and this dense night will become a dome of its vast tomb, which is filled with the condensation of your power; That's your innocent breath, from which black rain, hail and flames will burst. Oh, listen! Third, you woke up the blue Mediterranean Sea, which had been in a coma for a whole summer and was hypnotized into dreams by the whirling of clear water. It was near a pumice island in Baya Bay, and it dreamed that ancient palaces and castles were quivering in the waves of water and sky, and they were all covered with moss and flowers. That fragrance was really fascinating! Oh, in order to make way for you, the turbulent waves of the Atlantic Ocean split themselves in both directions, while the flowers and muddy forests deep in the ocean, though sparsely covered with branches and leaves, have no energy; Hearing your voice, they are blue with fear and shrink automatically. Oh, listen! Hey, if I am a dead leaf that you float, if I am a cloud that can fly with you, a wave that breathes with your power, if I have your pulse, I am just not as free as you, oh, an uncontrollable life! If I could dance like Feng Ling when I was a teenager and become your partner and swim in the sky (because, at that time, it didn't seem like a dream to chase you to the sky), I wouldn't be so anxious to pray with you now. Oh, lift me up as a wave, a leaf, and a cloud! I fell on the thorns of life, and I was bleeding! This life, subdued by the heavy yoke of years, was as proud, swift and unruly as you. Think of me as your harp, like a forest. What does it matter if my leaves fall? The music inspired by your huge ensemble will be stained with the Woods and my deep autumn. Although it is sad and sweet, I hope you will give me a violent spirit! Brave, let us be one! Please blow my dead thoughts to the world, and let them promote new life like dead leaves! Oh, please listen to this spell-like poem and spread my words, like ashes and sparks, from the still-burning fire to the world! Let the trumpet of prophecy wake up the sleeping earth through my lips! If winter has come, west wind, how can spring be far away?