Tisch
Sleepless days
The sun of insomniacs
Author: george gordon byron
George Gordon Byron
Sleepless sun! Blue star!
Tears for you, it's frightening,
Show the darkness you can't dispel,
I remember clearly how happy you are!
Ah, the sun of insomniacs! Blue star!
Like tears, you shine with trembling light.
It just shows the darkness you can't get rid of,
How happy you are!
The past shines, and the light of other days,
It shines, but not with its weak light to keep warm;
A kind of noctilucent sorrow watched,
Clear but far away-clear-but, oh, how cold!
In the past, the glory of the past is also flashing.
But its faint light is not a trace of hot air;
"Sorrow" lies in seeing a ray of light in the dark.
Very clear, but far away; Brilliant, but how cold!
extreme
Twenty-four years.
Author: Dylan Marles Thomas
Twenty-four years remind me of the tears in my eyes.
* * * Bury the dead for fear that they will go to the grave during childbirth. ***
I crouched like a tailor in the groin at the natural entrance.
Sew a shroud for a trip
In the light of the carnivorous sun.
Wearing the clothes of death, the sexy swagger began.
My red veins are full of money,
In the final direction of the basic town
I will move forward forever.
1938
Tisso
hope
Emily Bronte
Hope is just a timid friend;
She sat in a small room without a fence,
Watching my destiny go,
Even selfish people.
Her fear is cruel;
On a tired day, crossing the fence,
I looked out and saw her there.
She turned away!
Like a false guard, a false watch,
Still in conflict, she whispered peace;
She will sing when I cry,
If I listen, she will stop.
She is hypocritical and heartless;
When my last happiness spread all over the earth,
Even sad to see, repent,
Those sad relics are scattered around;
Hope, whose whisper will give
Soothes all my crazy pain,
Spread her wings and fly to heaven,
Go, never come back!
Article 4
Death, don't be proud.
John donne
Death, don't be proud, although someone calls you.
Powerful and terrible, because you are not like this;
For those who you think you will overthrow
Don't die, poor death, and you can't kill me.
From rest and sleep, but your pictures,
Very pleasant; Then more things will flow from you,
Our best people will go with you,
The remaining bones, and the delivery of the soul.
You are the slave of fate, opportunity, king and despair,
Living with poison, war, disease,
Poppies or spells can also put us to sleep.
Better than your stroke; Then why are you bloated?
A sleep in the past, we wake up forever.
Death will cease to exist; Death, you will die.
Death, don't be arrogant.
Death, don't be arrogant, even though someone is watching you.
How powerful and terrible, you, the name is not true;
You think you destroyed everyone,
Poor death, they are not dead. You still can't kill me;
Rest and sleep are actually your portrayal.
You must be more comfortable than them,
The sooner our best people go with you,
The sooner the soul is rescued, the sooner the body will rest in peace.
You are the slave of fate, opportunity, monarch and fanatic.
You are in cahoots with poison, war and disease,
* * * and witchcraft can also effectively confuse,
And it works better. Why do you tell me what to do?
When people take a nap, their spirits will always be clear.
There will be no more death, and death itself will die.
Wesley Wang