Shakespeare's classic English poem 1 That time of year may be behind me.
You can see autumn in me,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, hang.
When all the yellow leaves fall off, or just in twos and threes.
On those branches trembling with cold,
The cable hanging on the dead branch fluttered—
Bare ruins choir, where sweet birds sing.
Hundreds of birds once sang in the abandoned music scene.
In me, you see the dawn of this day.
You may have seen the light in me,
Just like the sunset,
After sunset, it disappeared to the west;
Gradually, the night took it away,
Night, the incarnation of death, gradually drives it away,
The second self of death closes everything in rest.
Yan Jing's rest shut up all kinds of things.
In me, you see the brilliance of this flame.
You can see all the embers on me,
Lying on the ashes of his youth,
It is dying in the cold ashes of youth,
As the bed of death, it must expire.
Sooner or later, you will lose your soul in a bleak mental bed.
Swallowed by what nourishes it.
Destroyed by the flame that nourished it.
You are aware of this, which makes your love stronger.
Seeing this, your love will be strengthened.
Love the well that you will leave soon.
Because he will leave you soon, but never to return.
20 classic English poems by Shakespeare, lest the world ask you to recite them.
Oh, before the world forces you to confess.
What are the advantages of me that deserve your love?
What's in it for me to let you die?
After I die, dear, please forget me completely.
Still love me, lover, forget everything about me,
Because you can't prove anything valuable on me;
I have nothing to mention outside;
Unless you come up with some white lies,
Unless you make up some beautiful lies,
Did more for me than my own desert,
Exaggerate the value I deserve to me,
Praise the late me.
Flatter and praise me with your eyes closed,
Than stingy truth is willing to teach:
Far more than stingy facts hope to show:
Oh, lest your true love appear false in this respect,
Oh, I'm afraid your true love will appear hypocritical,
It's not true that you praise me for your love.
I'm afraid you'll lie for me because of love,
My name is buried where my body is,
May my name and my body be buried together forever,
Don't embarrass you and me again.
So as not to live to shame you and me.
Because I'm ashamed of what I did,
Because my bad job makes me feel ashamed,
You should do the same, love those worthless things.
Whether you like it or not, you should be ashamed.
Shakespeare's classic English poem 3 comes from the most beautiful creation, and we are eager to increase it.
We hope that the good life will continue to multiply,
So beautiful roses may never die,
Only in this way, the beautiful rose will not fade,
But as time goes by,
Since all mature things will inevitably die,
His gentle heirs may remember him;
Beautiful children should inherit the fragrance:
But you shrink to your bright eyes,
But you married your bright eyes,
Light your flame with rich fuel,
Burn yourself as firewood, burn the brilliance in your eyes,
Create famine in rich places,
This led to famine in the harvesting area,
You are your enemy and you are too cruel to your sweet self.
You are fighting against yourself and teaching yourself to suffer.
You are the fresh ornament of the world now,
Now you are a bright treasure in the world,
And the only messenger of gaudy spring,
Only you can open the way for the splendid spring,
Buried in your own bud is your content,
But you buried yourself in your own bud,
Gentle villain, wasted in meanness.
Gentle monster, wasting everything with meanness.
Pity the world, or this greedy man,
Have pity on the world, it deserves it.
In the name of you and the grave, eat what the world deserves.
Don't let you and the grave devour everything!
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