1886- moshada
1888-Collection of Irish Rural Myths and Folktales
1889- Usin's Adventures and Other Poems
189 1 year-classic Irish story
1892- Countess Catherine and other legends and lyrics
1893- Celtic Dawn
1894- the field that the soul yearns for
1895- Poetry.
1897-mysterious rose
1899-wind in reeds
1903- the concept of good and evil
1903- In the Seven Forests
1907- Discovery
19 10- green helmet and other poems
19 13- the poem of frustration
19 14- responsibility
Fantasia of youth
19 17- The Wild Swan in Cooley
19 18- In the quiet moonlight,
192 1 year-Michael roberts and the dancers
192 1 year-four years
1924-cats and moonlight
1925- second vision
1926- Alienation
1926- autobiography
1927-October outbreak
1928- Tower
1933-Back to Ladders and Other Poems
1934- Selected Plays
1935-full moon in March
1938- New Poetry
1939- the last poem and two plays (published after death)
1939- in a gas tank (published after death)
Examples of works:
Broken dreams, there is gray in your hair. When passing by, young people no longer suddenly hold their breath; But maybe some old people will mumble prayers, because it is your prayers that make him recover on his deathbed. Just for you-you know all the heartache, and you gave all the heartache to others, and you began to bear the burden of beauty from your thin girlhood-just for you, God gave up her doomsday bell, and she occupied such a large share in that silence, while you just walked around the room and created peace. Your beauty can only leave a vague memory among us, just a memory. After the old people have finished speaking, a young man will say to an old man, "Tell me about the girl who may have become cold-blooded but worked hard because of her age." Vague memories are just memories, but in the grave, everything will be restored. There is no doubt that I will see that girl leaning or standing or walking in the initial charm of a mature woman, accompanied by the enthusiasm in my immature eyes, which makes me mumble like a fool. Now you are more beautiful than anyone else, but your body is flawed: your little hands were not beautiful before, and I am afraid that you will run to the mysterious and forever filled lake to soak your wrist: those who obey the sacred laws will play there and become perfect. For the sake of the past, let the hand I kissed remain the same. The last bell at midnight is silent. Sitting in the same chair all day, dreaming from one dream to another, from one rhyme to another, chatting with an image in the air: fuzzy memory, just memory.
Edit the publication of this passage in China.
Poems of Ye Zhi (3 volumes), Hebei Education Press, 2003. Selected Poems of Ye Zhi, Times Literature and Art Publishing House, 2007. Selected Works of Ye Zhi, Beijing Yanshan Publishing House, 2008. Ye Zhi's Poetry: Dance of the Soul, Oriental Publishing Center, 20 10.
Fourteen versions of Ye Zhi's famous poem "When You Are Old" ★ Original: When you are old, when your hair is gray and you are all sleepy, take a nap by the fire, take down this book, read it slowly, and dream of the soft eyes your eyes once had, and dream of their deep shadows; How many people love your happy and elegant moments, love your beauty with hypocrisy or sincerity, but only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the sadness on your aging face; Bend down by the burning fireplace and whisper sadly, how love escapes, how to pace on the mountains overhead, and how to hide her face among the stars.
Translation 1: When you are old (translated by Fu Hao), when you are old, tired and sleepy, take a nap by the fire, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming that your eyes look soft and the reflection in your eyes is deep; How many people love your charming time, your beauty comes from hypocrisy or truth, but only one person loves the sincerity of your soul and the bitter wind and frost on your declining face; Bend down and whisper sadly by the red fireplace, how Cupid escaped, wandering in the mountains overhead, hiding his face among the stars. Translation 2: When you are old (translated by Yuan Kejia), when you are old, white-haired, sleepy and dozing by the fire, please take this poem down and read it slowly, recalling the tenderness of your eyes in the past and their heavy shadows in the past; How many people love the beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity of adore you when you are young and happy? Only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face. He hung his head and whispered sadly about the disappearance of love by the red fire. On the mountain overhead, he walked slowly, hiding his face among a group of stars.
When China died, when China died, you were gray-haired and sleepy, sitting by the fire and taking a nap slowly. Please take down this collection of poems and read it slowly. Dreaming like a dream will refresh your eyes and ears. They are so affectionate and gentle. How many people have loved your radiant charm, your beautiful face, or sincerity, or acting skills, but only one person! He loves your holy and devout heart! When you wash away the lead and grieve for the beauty, she still loves you deeply! The flame in the furnace is warm and bright, and you gently lower your head, whispering for the withered and extinguished love with a touch of sadness. At this time, he is wandering alone in Qianshan, hiding his face behind the stars and staring at you.
When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy, take a nap by the fire, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming of the soft light and deep shadow in your eyes; How many people love your style and your beauty? Whether it is true or not, only one person loves your pilgrim's heart and the sadness contained in your changing face. He leaned over the red fence again, with a little sadness, whispering about how love escaped, wandering in the mountains overhead, hiding his face in the stars.
When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy, take a nap by the fire, take down this book and read it slowly, dreaming of the tenderness your eyes once had and their deep shadows; How many people love your happy and beautiful time, your beauty, true or false love, but one person loves your pilgrim soul and the sadness on your aging face; He leaned over the burning stove and muttered sadly, how love left, wandering alone in the mountains overhead and burying his face in a group of stars.
6. When you are old, gray-haired, sleepy, and sleepy by the fire, take this book down, read it slowly, and dream back to the soft light and deep shadow that your eyes once had; How many people fall in love with your joyful and elegant moment, your beauty is true or false love, and one person loves your soul facing the mountains and your changing face. With a little sadness, he leaned over the glittering iron railing. How did love escape? He wandered overhead and hid his face in a group of stars.
When you are old, white-haired, sleepy and dozing in front of the stove, please take this poem down and recite it slowly, dreaming of your eyes, the soft light and the faint shadow; How many people have loved your beauty, your joyful and charming youth, hypocrisy or true feelings, but only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face; When you lean over, next to the burning grate, you will whisper with a touch of sadness: the lost love has now reached the top of the mountain, and your face is buried in the dense stars.
When you are old, when you are gray-haired and sleepy, sitting by the fire, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming of your eyes, soft spirit and deep shadow. How many people have loved the shadow of your youth, your beauty, hypocrisy or truth, but one person loves your pilgrim's heart and the traces of years on your sad face. By the fireplace, you bent down and whispered with shallow sadness, how love passed away, how to set foot on the top of the mountain, and how to hide your face among the stars.
When you are old, gray-haired, sleepy and tired and sitting by the fire, take this book down and read it slowly, recalling the eyes of that year, with soft eyes and profound reflection. How many people have seen you worship your youthful and charming figure out of hypocrisy or true love for your beauty, but only one person loves your pilgrim's heart and your aging face.
10: When you are old (translated by Li Liwei), when you are old, gray-haired, sleepy and tired of sitting by the fire, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming that it will become a soft look and a deep shadow in your eyes. How many people have loved your youthful shadow and your beauty? Whether it is hypocritical or true, only one person loves your pilgrim's heart and the traces of years on your sad face. At the edge of the grate, you bent down and whispered with shallow sadness, how love passed away, how to set foot on the top of the mountain, and how to hide your face in the stars.
Translation 1 1: When you are old (anonymous translation), when you are old and white-haired, you are sleepy and doze off by the fire; Please remember a poem. Reminiscent, you once had a pair of gentle eyes, and in the corner of your eye, several shadows were thick and weak; How many people really loved adore you when she was young and beautiful, but she was seduced by your beauty. There is only one person who loves your soul and your holiness from the bottom of his heart, and his aging face has painful wrinkles. By the red-hot stove, look back quietly and tell sadly how love slipped away, how it ran to the mountain above, and then hide its face in the stars.
12: Love and sorrow-full translation Youth is gone, clouds are reduced to ashes, and drowsiness is coming. My love, please take this book and read it before the fire goes out. Please open this chapter slowly and dream back to the past-expectation. Really, that person once admired your beauty and was burned by your beauty; The Weiss were confused by another you, who covered your saint's face with a tragic burnt offering! My love, the flame seedling rises, but sorrow cannot be seen. Keep your head down and whisper that you know: true love never dies, so I sent your stars to play on the slightly tilted Yushan Mountain. Old, gray-haired, bow your head gently, and fall asleep by the fire with the ups and downs of the fire ... Please take this book and read it slowly, dreaming of your gentle eyes and deep shadows, which were once hidden in your eyes. So many people have loved your happiness, your elegance and your beauty, right or wrong. But men love your pure soul like martyrs. The sadness under your ever-changing face. Hanging my head by the undulating fire, whispering, muttering with some sadness, love disappeared like this. Climbing to the top of the mountain and looking up at the sky, his lost face is hidden in the eternal stars. When you get old, Mei Congmei.
Translation 13: (retranslated according to Yuan Kejia's translation) When you are old, gray-haired, sleepy and dozing by the fire, please take this poem down, read it slowly, and recall the tenderness in your eyes in the past and the deep thoughts contained in it; How many people love the beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity of adore you when you are young and happy? Only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face. You bent down by the sparkling fire and whispered sadly: Love is gone, drifting away in the distant mountains above you and disappearing in the starry night sky.
Translation 14: When you are old, white-haired and sleepy, take this poem down and recite it slowly, dreaming of your eyes, the soft light and the faint shadow; How many people have loved your beauty, your joyful and charming youth, hypocrisy, or true feelings, but only one person has loved your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face; When you bend over, you will whisper by the burning fire, with a trace of sadness and lost love, and now you have set foot on the mountain, and his face is buried in the dense stars.
Translation 15: When you are old, when your youth is gone, your face is faded, when your mind is exhausted and the warm fire makes you feel proud and sleepy, then open this book and read it slowly, recalling the tenderness of clear eyes and the confused feelings deeply reflected in the past. How many people once seemed to worship your youth, suppressed their sadness because they were infatuated with your happy smile, and longed for your beauty, or sincerely, or secretly concealed it, but only one person fell in love with each other because of your holiness and innocence, and was more attached to the secret sadness revealed between your eyebrows. He once sat feebly by the fireplace, whispering his humble heart to the hot iron fence. "How can love escape from my heart?" Why do you get lost in the mountains, hide your bright face in the bright starlight and refuse to bow your head? Still not willing to give a poor look and take a look at this humble admirer begging for love from you?
Other poems
People grow with the years [1]( 1 another poem translated)
I am haggard with dreams and tottering, and the sea god carved in marble in the stream; All day, I have been looking at the beauty of this lady, as if I had found a kind of beauty in a painting in a book. I am happy for the fullness of my eyes or the agility of my ears, and I am also happy for my wisdom, because people grow with the years; But, but, is this my dream, or is it true? Oh, I hope we can meet when my youth is burning! But I have grown old in my dream, and the marble carved Poseidon in the stream has been hit by the wind and rain. Tell him not to be afraid.
[2] For his heart, tell him not to be afraid of being quiet, and he is trembling with silence; Remember the old wisdom: let the huge wind, fire and flood hide that person. He shivered before the wind, fire and flood blowing through the stars, because he did not belong to a lonely and dignified group. Quiet, quiet, trembling heart; Remember the wisdom from ancient times: the man who trembled before the flames and floods, and the wind blowing through the starry sky, let the wind and flames and floods in the starry sky cover up and hide, because he has no part with the lonely and great crowd. Inniss Philly Island in the middle of the lake.
[3] (another poem 3 translated) I'm going to get up and go to Philly Island in innis, where I'll build a small house with branches and walls covered with mud; I want to raise a box of bees, plant nine rows of beans and live alone in the forest grassland where bees are buzzing. Peace will come to me there, and peace will slowly drip from the veil of dawn to the place where crickets sing; It shimmers in the middle of the night, turns purple at noon, and weaves cardinals' wings at dusk. I want to get up and leave, because I can hear the sound of the lake lapping from morning till night; Whether standing on the road or on the gray sidewalk, I always hear it calling in my heart.
During William Butler's reign, (1865 ~ 1939), also spelled "Yates" and "Yates", was an Irish poet, drama, famous mystic, the leader of the Irish Renaissance, and he was also one of the founders of Abbey Theatre, which Eliot called him. Ye Zhi was also interested in drama, and he wrote 26 plays. Additional basic information column: Others: William Burt Saddler Ye Zhi mbth: William Butler Yeats Nationality: Irish Birthplace: Irish Sandy Date of Birth: 1 June 3 1865 Date of Death:1August 28th 1939 Occupation: Poet and Dramatist Graduate School:.