What are the poems about plum blossoms? Poems about plum blossoms and their translations

1. "Plum Blossom" - Wang Anshi of the Northern Song Dynasty

There are several plum blossoms in the corner, and Ling Han blooms alone.

I know it’s not snow from a distance, because there is a faint fragrance coming.

Vernacular translation: The few plum blossoms in the corner bloomed alone in the severe cold. Why do you know from a distance that the white plum blossoms are not snow? Because there is a faint fragrance of plum blossoms.

2. "One of Two Poems on Little Plums in the Mountain Garden" - Lin Bu of the Song Dynasty

All the flowers are swaying and blooming alone, occupying the small garden with all the charm.

The sparse shadows are slanting across the clear and shallow water, and the faint fragrance is floating in the moonlight at dusk.

The frost bird steals its eyes when it wants to come down, while the white butterfly knows how to unite and part its soul.

Fortunately, we can have sex with each other with a slight chant, and there is no need to seal the gold bottle with a sandalwood board.

Vernacular translation: After all the flowers have fallen, only the plum blossoms bloom so beautifully and brightly, becoming the most beautiful scenery in the garden. The plum branches reflect sparsely on the water, and their faint fragrance lingers in the moonlit dusk. Floating and dispersing. Birds in winter will perch on the plum blossom branches and peek first. Butterflies in summer would be so ashamed that they would die of shame if they knew the beauty of the plum blossoms. Fortunately, I can recite poems and get close to the plum blossoms. I don’t need to clap sandalwood boards to sing, nor do I need to drink from gold bottles to entertain.

3. "Two Poems on Little Plum Blossoms in the Mountain Garden·Part 2" - Lin Bu of the Song Dynasty

It is difficult to cut the silk into pieces and dry it, and it is difficult to paint the thin and thick texture towards the back.

The sun is thin from spring to late, and the frost is deep, so it is cold at night.

The freshness and freshness are only cherished by the neighboring monks, but they are ignored and disliked by the common people.

Reminiscing about the old journey south of the Yangtze River, the wine flags flickered and fell into the singing saddle.

Vernacular translation: It is like cut silk dotted with cheese-like branches. It is really difficult to draw the posture and layout. Enjoying the sunset and Spring Festival Gala, you should be afraid of the heavy frost and cold night. She is so pure and bright that she only cares about the neighboring eminent monks. She is so cold and aloof that she hates being looked at by the common people. I think of the old days on the journey to the south of the Yangtze River, the fragrant soul falling on the singing saddle under the wine.