Although it will definitely take more than 3 minutes to finish reading this whole poem, you can read it as an excerpt. This is Shelley's ode to the west wind. I hope you like it as much as I do. Let's enjoy ourselves. ...
Ah, wild west wind, you are the breath of autumn, you can't see its existence, dead leaves are driven away like ghosts, fleeing from a group of people affected by plague, yellow, black, pale and fanatical red! Oh, you drove the winged seeds to their dark winter beds, where they lay cold and low, each like a corpse in a grave, until your blue sister in spring blew her horn on the dreamy land, making 10 (driving sweet buds to feed in the air like sheep) full of colors and smells of life in plains and hills; Wild spirit, flowing everywhere; Destroyer and protector. Listen, listen!
1
Wild autumn wind, you autumn elf! Didn't see you, the dead leaves have been swept away, like a group of ghosts who fled without seeing the mage-they were yellow and black, or pale and crimson, and they really suffered a plague in a large area; You, you sent the flying seeds into the winter, and let them sleep in the dark underground, just like the bodies lying in their graves, until your sister Lan Chun blew the horn in the dreamland, called the sheep-like buds to suck the atmosphere, and filled Shan Ye with color and fragrance. Wild spirit, you are wandering, destroying and protecting. Oh, listen!
two
Whose stream are you on? In the turmoil of the steep sky, loose clouds like rotten leaves of the earth are falling off, shaking from the tangled branches of heaven and sea, angels of rain and lightning! Your light waves spread on the blue sea, just like the hair raised on the head of a fierce man? Even from the blurred edge of the horizon to the height of the zenith, the approaching storm locks. You elegy of a dying year, this last night will be the dome of a huge grave, and with all the power of your gathered steam, black rain, fire and hail will erupt from its solid atmosphere. Oh, I heard you!
2
You, the chaotic cloud is the messenger of rain and lightning. It is on your turbulent torrent that lightning is washed down like dead leaves on a tree, and it also falls straight down from the intricate branches of the sky and the sea: just like a furious Dionysus priestess raising her silver hair from the dark horizon to the sky, I saw similar hair in your turbulent blue sky, announcing the coming of a storm. You are its dying elegy, and the night of retreat is its grave-sweeping tomb, which is connected with the sky-all the power of the water vapor you gathered in the cage, black rain, electric fire and hail will also fall from this thick cloud. Oh, listen!
Roman numeral 3
Who are you to wake up the blue Mediterranean from his summer dream? He lies there, beside a white pumice island, hypnotized by his crystal stream? In my sleep, I saw the ancient palaces and towers trembling in the stormy day. They were all covered with sky-blue moss, and the flowers were so sweet that the feeling of imagining them was blurred! On your way, the horizontal force of the Atlantic Ocean splits into cracks, while the ocean flowers and muddy forests far below wear the listless leaves of the ocean. Knowing your voice, it suddenly turns gray with fear, trembling and plundering itself. Oh, I heard you!
three
You, lying beside the pumice island in Baya Bay (2) in the Mediterranean Sea, are gradually urged to sleep in its summer, only to see the ancient palace and castle tremble slightly under the huge waves-the walls are covered with youthful moss and wild flowers, and your heart will be drunk just thinking about the fragrance! You woke it up again. In order to open the way for you, the flat Atlantic Ocean is full of deep trenches. In its depths, the flower trees and muddy dense forests with no juice in the branches and leaves at the bottom of the water can immediately recognize your call, and suddenly they begin to shrink and wither because of fright, and even turn gray in color. Oh, listen!
Intravenously injected
If I am a dead leaf, you can bear it; If I were a cloud, I would fly with you; A wave that breathes under your strength, the impulse to share your strength, is just not as free as you, ah, uncontrollable! If I can be your partner roaming in heaven as I was a child, then it seems only an illusion to surpass your speed-I will never pray with you so hard when I need it most. Oh! Lift me up, like waves, leaves and clouds! I fell on the thorns of life! I am bleeding! The heavy shackles of time bound 55 people like you-unruly, agile and proud.
four
If I were a dead leaf held up by you; If I were a cloud, I would fly with you; If I breathe under your strength and share your powerful impulse, then I will be free, oh! Second only to the unruly you; If I were still a child, I could still be your loyal partner when you invited me to travel in the sky-because at that time, running faster than you might not be a dream; Then I wouldn't be so cruel and I wouldn't have to beg you like this. Please lift me up, oh, just imagine me as a dead leaf, a cloud or a wave! I, falling on the thorns of life, dripping with blood! I am too much like you: stubborn, agile and arrogant, but the burden of years has bound me and crushed me.
V
Let me be your harp, just like the forest. What if my leaf falls like its own? The noise of your powerful harmony will be taken away from the deep autumn tone, 60 is sad but sweet. Be you, fierce soul, my soul! Be me, impulsive person! Drive my dead thoughts into the universe, like withered leaves, to accelerate rebirth; Through the spell of this poem, spread my words around the world like ashes and sparks that never go out! Blow the horn of prophecy to the awakening earth through my lips! Wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
five
Let me be your harp like a forest, but my leaves will wither like forest leaves! These two beautiful and sad late autumn sounds will be covered by your roaring symphony. I wish I had your strong spirit! I hope that you are me! Please sweep my dead thoughts out of the universe, just like you sweep the fallen leaves to promote new life! And with the spell of my poem, my words spread all over the world, just like sparks blown out of the never-ending furnace! May you blow the prophetic horn that awakens the world through my mouth! Wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?