(British) Shelley-translated by Jiang Feng
Hello, happy elf!
You never seem to be a bird,
From heaven or near heaven,
Accompanied by cheerful music,
Don't carve art, pour out your heart.
Up, then fly high,
You jump from the ground,
Like a burning Yun Lan,
Through the blue sky,
Always singing and flying, flying and singing.
The sun below the horizon,
Emit golden lightning,
In the clear sky, the clouds are steaming,
You fly in the bright light,
The seemingly shapeless joy has just begun a rapid expedition.
A faint crimson dusk,
Melt in your voyage,
Like a star in the sky,
Although we can't see each other,
But I can clearly hear your happy voice-
Sharp and bright music,
Like a silver star sword,
Its bright light,
The morning light faded,
Until it is difficult to distinguish, it can be felt in space.
The whole earth and atmosphere,
Ring through your gentle voice,
As if on a desolate night,
From behind the lonely cloud,
The bright moon is shining, and its brilliance permeates the universe.
We don't know what you are.
What is the most similar to you?
From the neon rosy clouds,
It's hard to rain so beautifully,
Can be compared with the music that comes with you.
Like a poet,
You can't see it in the brilliance of your thoughts.
Recite impromptu poetic rhythms,
Until the sympathy of the whole world,
Awaken by hopes and worries that have never been noticed.
Like a noble girl,
Living on the balcony of the palace,
In lonely and indescribable moments,
Send away the feelings of suffering because of love,
Sweetness overflows the boudoir like a love song.
Like a golden firefly,
In the dewy mountains and valleys,
There's no sign of travel,
Spread out the glittering streamer,
In the grass that blocks our sight.
Like her own green leaves
A rose in the shade,
Damaged by hot air,
Until it's fragrant
Drunk the reckless informer with too much sweetness.
Glittering grass,
The sound of falling spring rain,
The buds that wake up after the rain,
It can be called refreshing.
Everything new is not as good as your music.
Birds or elves,
What are the sweet thoughts in your heart?
I've never heard of it,
An ode to love or wine,
Can generate produce such a sacred stream of bliss.
Whether it's a wedding chorus,
Whether it's a winning song,
Compared with your music,
It's just a bluff,
People can feel that there is always poverty among them.
What kind of images or events,
Is the source of your happy songs.
Fields, waves or mountains?
Air and land forms?
Is it love for the same kind, or insulation from pain?
With your strong joy for Minche,
So that burnout will never appear,
The shadow of trouble will never
I can't be near you,
You love, but you never know the sadness of loving too much.
Whether to wake up or go to bed,
Your understanding of death must be better than
What we mortals dream of.
More profound and true, otherwise
Why is the sound stream of your music like LCD?
We looked back and forth for the sake of
Something that doesn't exist, worrying about yourself,
Our most sincere smile,
Mixed with some kind of distress,
Our most beautiful music is the tune that can best express our sadness.
However, even if we can get rid of it.
Hatred, arrogance and fear,
Even if we weren't born.
Drop a tear,
We don't know how to approach your happiness.
More than all happy melodies,
Sweeter and better,
More than all the treasures in books,
More abundant,
This is your contempt for dust, your artistic skill.
Teach me half your heart.
Must be familiar happiness,
Harmonious, fiery passion
Will come out of my mouth,
At this moment, the whole world will be like me-give ear and listen.