The river flows quietly into the dreamland, and the dark pine forest loses its noise. The nightingale's song was silent, and the long-legged crake no longer cried happily. When night falls, it is quiet, only the stream is singing softly. The bright moon casts light and puts a silver coat on everything around it. There are thousands of silver stars in the river and silver waves in the stream. The grass on the flooded vilen is also shining with silver. As night falls, there is silence and nature is immersed in a dream. The bright moon casts light and puts a silver coat on everything around it. [Note] This poem has been selected into "300 Famous Foreign Poems" (Beijing Publishing House, 2000 edition) and the first volume of the ninth grade Chinese textbook of People's Education Publishing House. .....................................................................................................................
Song of the dog
In the early morning, in the kennel made of black wheat straw, golden light shone on the broken straw mat: the bitch gave birth to a litter of puppies-seven puppies with brown fur. She kept kissing her children until dusk, and under her warm belly, the snowflakes melted into water drops. In the evening, the rooster squatted on the warm stove, and the owner who was sad came and put seven puppies into sacks. Bitch is running in the rolling snow, following her master's footsteps. She came to the unfrozen water and stared at the ripples. She licked the sweat from her ribs and staggered home. The crescent moon over the hut thought it was her puppy. Looking up at the hazy night sky, she let out a sad bark, and the faint crescent moon slipped away quietly and hid in the field behind the mountain. So she was silent, as if she had been hit by a stone, as if she had heard mocking words, and tears flowed out, as if Venus had fallen into the snow. -
I remembered
I remember, dear, the flash of your soft hair; Fate has made me leave you, and my heart is heavy and sad. I remember those autumn nights when the leaves of birch trees rustled; May the days get shorter and the moonlight get longer. I remember you saying to me, "The good old days are about to be a thing of the past. You will forget me, dear, and pair up with other girlfriends." Now the bodhi tree has blossomed again, causing infinite melancholy in my heart; How gentle I was then, scattering petals on your curly hair. Ah, when I love others, my heart won't get cold. It will think of you from others and be as happy as reading a beloved novel. -
What is lost will never come back.
I can't recall that cool night, I can't see my girlfriend again, I can't hear the nightingale singing a happy song in the garden. That charming spring night flies, you can't bring it back. The bleak autumn has come, and the rain continues. The girlfriend in the grave is sleeping soundly and burying the flame of love in her heart. The heavy rain in autumn can't wake up her dreams, nor can it make her blood boil again. The nightingale's song has been silent, because the nightingale has flown overseas, and the beautiful song echoing in the cool night sky has always calmed down. The joy experienced in the past life has already flown away, leaving only cold feelings and lost things in my heart, which are gone forever. -
Play red hurdy-gurdy.
Pull up, pull up the red hurdy-gurdy. A beautiful girl met a lover in the pasture. The burning apple in my heart shines with the color of cornflower. I play the accordion and sing my blue eyes. The rippling ripples in the lake are not the glow, but your embroidered scarf behind the hillside. Pull up, pull up the red hurdy-gurdy. Let the beautiful girl hear her lover's throat. -
Lovely hometown.
Lovely hometown! My heart dreamed that the river was swaying and looked at the sun like a haystack. I really want to hide in the depths of the shade. I want to hide in a place where a hundred birds contend. Clover is covered with golden robes and grows with clover on the edge of the field. Willow trees are like a group of gentle nuns-beads make a crisp sound. Swamp pipes are smoking clouds, and black friends are floating in the sky. I miss someone quietly and keep my secret thoughts in my heart. I welcome everything. I put up with everything, and I come through thick and thin. I didn't come to this land in a hurry-just to leave it faster. -
I said goodbye to the house where I was born.
I bid farewell to the house where I was born and left the sky-blue Russia. The birch forest is like three stars in the pool, warming the old mother's mind. The moon lies flat on the calm water, like a golden frog. Like flowing apple blossoms-my father's beard has turned white. My return is far away. The snow will sing for a long time. Only the old maple tree is independent with one foot, guarding the sky-blue Russia. Anyone who loves to kiss the rain of fallen leaves will definitely like that tree when he sees it, just because the old maple tree-its face is the same as mine. -
I don't sigh, call or cry.
I don't sigh, I don't call, I don't cry, and everything will disappear, such as fireworks from white apple trees. The faded colors in autumn cover me in a cage, and there will never be a beautiful spring again. My heart, beaten by the cold, will never beat violently again. In a country with birch patterns and fabrics, you will no longer attract me to wander barefoot. Wanderer's soul, you light the flame of language in my mouth less and less. Ah, my lost vitality, wild eyes, tidal emotions! Life, now I'm tired of hope? Are you just my spring dream? It seems that in the early morning of spring when the air is still ringing, I am riding a beautiful horse. In this world, we are all doomed to rot, brass leaves fall quietly from maple trees ... There is no end to everything in the world, I hope you will be happy forever. -
white birch
In front of my window, there is a birch tree, which seems to be covered with silver frost and snowflakes. Furry branches, lace embroidered with snowflakes, strings of blooming flowers and picturesque white tassels. In the hazy silence, the birch stands upright in the jade, shining with brilliant snowflakes in the golden light. Birch trees wander around, and the morning glow comes late. It sprinkled silver light on the snow-covered branches. -
Goodbye, my friend, goodbye.
Goodbye, my friend, goodbye dear, you will be in my heart forever. Destiny takes a hand to leave each other and promise to meet us in the front. Goodbye, my friend. No need to shake hands, no need to be sad, no need to be sad. In this world, death is nothing new, and living is nothing new.