Shakespeare's classic English poem 1: What is your substance and where are you making it?
What is your essence, what is it made of,
There are countless strange shadows on you?
Let a million beautiful images of Qian Qian follow you?
Because everyone has, everyone, a shadow,
Everyone has only one, everyone, a shadow;
And you, only one, can lend it to every shadow.
You are alone, but you can create thousands of shadows.
Describe adonis and counterfeiting.
Try to sketch his portrait Adoni.
Be badly imitated after you;
Just a poor imitation of you;
On Helen's cheek, all the beautiful arts,
Try to beautify Helen's cheeks,
You're wearing Greek tires. You're newly painted;
It's a new self with Greek makeup.
Speaking of spring and autumn of the year;
Speaking of the beauty of spring and the richness of autumn,
A person shows your beautiful shadow,
A beautiful photo of you shows that,
The other is your generosity;
The other is a portrayal of your generosity;
You are all the blessed people we know.
All natural beauty contains you.
Of all the external elegance, there is a part of you,
All the charm of the outside world is yours,
But you don't like anyone, no one likes you, because you have an unchanging heart.
But no one has your loyal heart.
Shakespeare's classic English poem 2: Ah, beauty is more precious than beauty.
Oh, how many times more beautiful it looks,
Sweet decoration with truth!
If it makes sense, give it a warm decoration!
The rose looks beautiful, but we think it is more beautiful.
The rose is beautiful, but we think it is more beautiful.
Because it smells sweet.
Because it gives off a sweet fragrance.
The festering flowers are as deep as dye.
The beauty of wild roses is also beautiful.
Like the fragrant tincture of roses,
Compared with the fragrance and beauty of roses,
Hanging on such thorns and wanton play.
Hanging on the tree together, they will pose,
When the breath of summer reveals their masked buds:
When the breath of summer lights up its buds:
However, their virtue is only their performance.
But their only advantage is color,
They live a life of neglect and respect,
No one is attached when opening, and no one cares when withering;
Go to hell. Sweet roses don't do this;
Die alone. Sweet roses are different;
Their sweet death is the sweetest smell:
Her sweet death can be made into perfume;
You too, beautiful and lovely young man,
You too, beautiful and lovely youth,
When all this is gone, my poem refines your truth.