But why don't you use a stronger method?
Go to war with this bloody tyrant, when?
Consolidate yourself in decline.
Happier than my barren sin?
Now let you stand at the top of the happy time,
And many girls' gardens, but not set up,
With good wishes, I will bloom your flowers,
More like a fake than your painting:
So should the lifeline of life repair.
Is it a pencil or my student pen this time,
Whether it is intrinsic value or external fairness.
Can make you live yourself in the eyes of men.
Give up yourself and keep yourself still,
You must live and be attracted by your own sweet skills.
But why not take a more drastic approach?
To resist this damn devil's time?
There is no more auspicious weapon than my dead pen,
To protect themselves from decay and strengthen themselves?
You are standing at the top of prime time,
Many girls' gardens are not sown,
Chastity longs for your gorgeous hero,
More vivid than your portrait:
Only the thread of life can redraw life;
The brush of time, or my fragile tube,
Whether it's beautiful in spirit or appearance,
I can't let you live in front of people.
Give yourself, but still be yourself,
You must live and use your own pen.
I am her, and she is me. I am her. She is me.
We are one, we are free, we are one, we are free.
If someone calls me, if someone calls me.
She is the one. She is the one.
If someone calls me, if someone calls me.
She's the one. It must be her.
We are young, we are wrong, we are young, and we have done something wrong.
We've always been fine. We've always been fine.
If someone calls me, if someone calls me.
She is the one. She is the one.
When you get where you want to go, go where you want to go.
You know what you want to know, you know what you want to know.
You're smiling, and you'll have a good laugh.
When you say what you want to say, when you say what you want to say.
You know the way you want to play and do things the way you like.
You will fly high, and you will feel like you are flying.
Despite the difficulties, the sea is still strong.
I know we will continue. I know I will continue to work hard.
Because if someone calls me, because if someone calls me
She is the one. She is the one.
If someone calls me, if someone calls me.
She is the one. She is the one.
Shakespeare's Sonnet No.18 (Translation)
Classical Chinese translation:
Beauty is youth, beauty is ecstasy.
How do you know that it is a good time for Dongfeng evil to treat others?
He was tall in the morning and fainted at night.
Everyone is shaking down. Who is asking about providence?
I have a painter's pen. It looks like a god.
For color, wind and frost are inviolable.
Dan Qing is also difficult for a long time, such as poetry and piano.
Sing a song to celebrate the New Year, and leave fragrance through the ages.
Vernacular translation:
Can I compare you to summer?
You are more beautiful and gentle than summer.
The strong wind in May withered the buds,
How short summer is.
Don't fall in love with that beautiful day,
There will be fog in the blink of an eye.
Don't sigh, flowers bloom and fall,
Break through in a hurry in an impermanent fate.
Only your eternal summer is new every day,
Your beauty is intact.
Death has no chance to imprison you,
You will live forever in my eternal poem.
As long as someone recites my poem,
This poem will be immortal and keep your beauty forever.
English original:
William shakespeare's Sonnets
Sonnets 18
Can I compare you to a summer day?
You are cuter and gentler;
The wind shook the lovely buds of May,
The lease in summer is too short;
Sometimes the eye of heaven shines too hot,
His golden complexion often darkens,
Every market sometimes declines,
The process of accidental or natural change has not been broken:
But your eternal summer will not fade
Or lose the beauty you know,
Death will not boast that you want to rest in his shade,
When you grow up in eternal poetry.
As long as human beings can breathe and see,
This is eternal, which gives you life.
William Wordsworth (1770- 1850)
Lonely reaper
Look at her, alone in the field,
That lonely highland girl!
Harvesting and singing alone;
Let's stop here and pass it gently!
She cut and bound the grain by herself,
Singing a melancholy tune;
Oh, listen! Because the valley is deep
Full of sound.
No nightingale has ever challenged
More welcome instructions for the tired band
Travelers are in some dark places,
In the Arabian desert:
Never heard such an exciting voice.
From the cuckoo's spring,
Break the silence of the ocean
In the farthest hebrides.
Nobody told me what she sang? -
Maybe sad numbers are flowing.
For old, unhappy, distant things,
And the battle long ago:
Or some more humble level,
Familiar things today?
Some natural sadness, loss or pain,
This has happened before, and it may happen again.
No matter what the theme is, the girl sings
As if her song had no ending;
I saw her singing at work,
Over the crooked sickle; -
I listened, motionless, motionless;
When I climbed up the mountain,
The music in my heart,
I'll never hear it again after a long time.
Lonely reaper
Look, a lonely plateau girl.
Harvesting in distant fields,
Singing alone while cutting,-
Please stop. Or quietly walk by!
She cut and tied the wheat alone,
Sing a song of infinite sadness,
Hold your breath and listen! A deep and wide valley
It has been filled with songs and overflowed!
There was never a nightingale,
Singing such a charming song,
In the shade of the desert
Comfort tired passengers;
No cuckoo has ever welcomed spring,
The sound of crying is so shocking to the soul,
In the remote Huberley Islands.
Break the loneliness of the sea.
What does she sing? Who can tell me?
Sad notes keep flowing,
Are you telling that distant story?
Is it to carry the ancient war?
Maybe her songs are humble,
Just sing today's ordinary joys and sorrows,
Sing the sadness and pain of nature—
After what happened yesterday, will we meet again tomorrow?
I can't guess what this girl sings,
Her songs are like endless running water;
I saw her singing and working,
Bend over and wave the sickle, and work endlessly ...
I listened attentively to her singing,
Then, when I climbed up the mountain,
Although the song is no longer audible,
It still haunts my mind.
notes
Coleridge, Wordsworth and his sister visited the Scottish Highlands in 1803. Dorothy wrote in the memory of September 6 that year: "It was the harvest season, and the fields were quiet-can I say it thoughtfully?" -Active by the reaper's small company. In more remote places in the highlands, it is not uncommon to see a person working like this. " In the appendix of version 1807, Wordsworth traced the origin of this poem: "This poem was inspired by a beautiful sentence written by a friend during a trip in Scotland, and the last line was extracted word by word." Thomas Wilkinson's manuscript, "A Journey to the British Mountains" (London, 1824) wrote: "Passing by a woman harvesting alone: she leaned over the sickle and sang; This is the sweetest voice I've ever heard: her singing is gentle and melancholy, which is memorable, even after people never hear it again.
Highland: A mountainous area in northern Scotland, related to Celtic tribes.
Deep valley: a wide deep valley between two high mountains; It may be the world itself, a place full of pain.
[9] Nightingale: A small songbird, famous for its male's music during mating and nesting season. In classical mythology, the female nightingale is Philomela, who was tragically raped and mutilated by her sister Prussie's husband, and was deformed when she took revenge.
Cuckoo: a songbird that migrated to Britain in spring and was associated with revival.
Hebrides: An island of northwest Scotland in the Atlantic Ocean.
Sad Numbers: Traditional poetic expressions, such as Ode to the Nineteenth by George Dyer. To a young painter and poetess "(180 1);
Modest wording: traditional poetic wording, such as Thomas Warton's Ode to an Italian gentleman (1747), line 1-3:
Elizabeth barrett browning:
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806- 186 1)
Rialto of the soul has its goods;
I traded curly hair for curly hair in the market.
From my poet's forehead to my heart.
Accept this lock, better than Argos,-
Like purple and black in Pindar's eyes
Dim purple hair across the eyes.
Nine white muse eyebrows. For this counterpart,
Dear, I guess, the shadow of laurel,
Still stuck in your curly hair, it's so black!
Therefore, with a smooth kiss,
I tied the shadow so that it wouldn't slide back,
Put the gift in an unobstructed place;
In my heart, like on your forehead, there is a lack.
There is no natural heat until my death turns cold.
Liato in my heart-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Wesley Wang
Mind Rialto also has its own deal,
From beginning to end, things that changed this city,
From the poet to my heart,
This curly hair is heavier than a big cargo ship.
The color of hair is black with purple, as Pindar once saw.
Purple is black, the muse is white,
Melancholy hangs down You have hair like that,
My love, I guess, the laurel of the moon is dark,
Hair is still curly, black like this!
Exhale like a kiss, like a ribbon,
Tie this shadow and never fall off,
Put this precious gift in my heart;
This place is undisturbed, still on your forehead,
Before I die, there will be no lack of warmth.
How I love you (Elizabeth Barrett Browning (UK))
How do I love you? Let me count them one by one.
How do I love you? Let me count it carefully.
I love you as much as I can
I love you beyond measure.
Depth, width and height-as I am exploring.
My soul can touch it, when I feel invisible.
The Existence and Deep Grace of God in Xuan Ming.
For the purpose of existence and ideal elegance.
I love you just like under the sunshine and candlelight.
I love you to the level of everyday.
Then you don't have to say it every day Without thinking, I
The quietest, in the sunshine and candlelight.
Love you like a man fighting for justice;
I love you freely, like people fighting for justice;
I love you purely, as they bow their heads before praise.
I love you purely, just as they avoid praise.
I love you with my childhood beliefs; I love you
I love you with my passion.
With enthusiasm, it is like the bitterness of the past;
In my past grief, with my childhood beliefs.
I love you like that saint who seems to disappear with me.
I love you with a love that seems to have been lost.
And faded love. I love you all my life.
With my dead saints, I love you with my breath,
Breath, smile and tears-if it's God's.
Smiles, tears, and my life-if God chooses;
It means, then, I will love you more when I die!
I will love you more after I die.
1. edmund spenser
sonnet
Fourteen lines
Qingxin spring, the messenger of love, the powerful king,
During the Spring Festival, you are the pioneer of God's love.
Whose tent displays a wealth of armor?
Your coat is gorgeous and conspicuous.
All kinds of flowers, which spring has come?
There are countless flowers in the world,
Wearing gorgeous clothes.
Her elegant dress is dazzling.
Go find my love, she lies there carefree,
Go to my lover, she doesn't care,
However, in her winter, bowre:
She is still sleeping in her boudoir in winter;
Tell her that the happy time will not stop.
Tell her: Happy time won't last forever,
Unless she grabs his forehead,
Unless she can hold it firmly in her hand;
So she told herself to get ready as soon as possible,
Tell her to finish all the preparations as soon as possible,
Waiting for love among his lovely crew.
All right, go to those beautiful women and welcome the goddess of love:
Everyone who missed what she did,
If someone can't touch the soul of their lover,
He will bear the dew of repentance.
If you love God, you must give him the severe punishment he deserves.
Enjoy the sweet love while it is still young.
Seize this sweet love, while you are still young,
Because no one can call back the past time.
Youth is gone forever, like the sea flowing eastward.
2. william blake
tiger
Tiger! Tiger! Burn the tiger! Tiger! The flames are shining,
Burning in the forest at night, burning in the jungle at night
What fairy hands or fairy eyes? What fairy hands and fairy eyes?
Can shape your terrible symmetry. Because of your terrible symmetrical appearance?
What is the fire in your eyes?
Burn the flame in your eyes? How far is it from the depth or the height?
Why does he dare to yearn for it? What made him dare to fly for nine days?
What kind of hand dares to catch fire? What kind of hand dares to catch this flame?
What shoulders, what art, what arm strength, what skills.
Will distort the muscles of your heart? Screw it into the tendon of your heart?
When your heart starts to beat, what kind of hands, what kind of feet,
What hand of terror? What terrible feet? Make your heart start beating?
What hammer? What chain? What kind of hammer do you use? What kind of chain?
What furnace is your brain in? In what kind of furnace did you refine your brain?
What anvil? What kind of anvil does fear cling to? What kind of arm strength?
Dare to catch its deadly terror? Dare to catch this terrible thing that can be fatal?
When the stars put down their spears, when the stars put down their spears,
Water the sky with their tears, water the sky,
Did he read his work with a smile? Can he still laugh when he sees his work?
Did the God who made the lamb make you? Did he create you and the lamb?
Tiger! Tiger! Burn the tiger! Tiger! The flames are shining,
Burning in the forest at night, burning in the jungle at night,
What fairy hands or fairy eyes, what fairy hands and fairy eyes?
Dare to frame your terrible symmetry? Because of your terrible symmetrical appearance?