Prose poem "When you are old", many people will have the habit of reading in their lives. Some people like reading novels, some people like to taste prose poems, and many people think that prose poems are a very romantic existence, which will become romantic after reading them. We read the prose poem When You Are Old together.
Prose poems in old age 65438+ 0 in old age
Author: William Butler Yeats
When you are old and your hair is gray.
Sleepy and tired, sitting by the fire.
Take this book down and read it slowly.
Your eyes when you dream, your soft eyes, deep aura.
How many people have loved your short figure and your beauty.
Whether it is hypocritical or true, only one person has loved your pilgrim's heart.
Love the scars of years on your sad face. Bend over the hood.
Worry and meditate, mumble.
How love dies, how it climbs mountains, and how it hides its face among the stars.
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Appreciation of When You Are Old: When the poet wrote this poem, the object he loved was in the prime of life, with a beautiful face and graceful charm. People often say, "Which girl is not good at love and which boy is not good at love." Throughout the ages, love always seems to be associated with youth and beauty.
When people are bathed in the glory of love, there is only the present in their minds, and there is always a hidden desire to refuse time, change and turn the moment into eternity. However, the poet is determined to travel far away just for sightseeing, thinking of a beautiful girl in her later years and imagining her white-haired and rickety body.
Telling a girl who is enjoying the fruits of youth about her twilight years is like telling a newborn child that he must die. This is cruel, but it is an irresistible natural law. The poet wrote this not only to tell her the "truth", but to express his love for her in this way.
The prose poem When You Are Old is a collection of love poems by Irish poet Ye Zhi. 1889 65438+1On October 30th, Ye Zhi and Mod Gunny met for the first time, and they started their lifelong obsession. "She stood at the window with a lot of apple blossoms beside her; She is dazzling, as if she were sunshine ... "They had a poetic first meeting, but failed to get a poetic result. In the next 28 years, Ye Zhi proposed to Maud many times, but was rejected many times. He had to marry someone else until he was over fifty. In this regard, Maud said that "the world will be grateful for not marrying you." 1923, Ye Zhi won the Nobel Prize in Literature. 1939, Ye Zhi died and Maud did not attend the funeral. Ye Zhi spent his whole life writing poems for the goddess, telling his deep feelings. He once said, "All my poems are dedicated to Mogani." From these love poems, we can feel passionate love and poetry.
When you get old,
Please take it off,
I wrote a poem for you.
Those vows hidden between the lines,
Still in the dust of the years,
Record first love ...
I am waiting for you at the end of time,
The wind blew away the memory of yesterday.
Silver moonlight,
Sprinkle on the winding road we walked,
The phosphorescence of the years began to ripple in the evening breeze.
There was a rustling sound in the distance,
Twisted between heaven and earth.
Your name is mixed with the flute,
Gracefully ups and downs in my mind.
I stood in the opposite corner,
Waiting for you quietly ...
When you get old,
Stumbling on the path at dusk,
Tell old stories.
Please allow me to hold your arm,
Take a walk in the herb garden full of petals.
Your bent back,
In the late autumn wind,
Full of fatigue.
The afterglow of the sunset,
Hanging over your elegant posture.
Allow me,
Give you a deep hug again!
My arm,
Without the impulsive passion of youth,
But into the sincere arms,
In the long river of time,
It caused eternal pain.
When you get old,
Eyes that are no longer clear,
Stories of spring, summer, autumn and winter are flowing.
Please allow me to stand by you,
Gaze into your eyes quietly;
Please allow me to look at each other silently,
Read your mind quietly.
Calm eyes,
Drowned years of hard work,
A calm smile,
It is full of every chapter of life.
Pick up the book of poems I read to you when I was young,
In colorful poems,
Life and death parting,
It has become an eternal look back between the moments of youth.
When you get old,
Time has eroded your face.
Allow me to use my trembling hands,
Touch your smashed face;
Please allow me to use gentle language,
Touch your forehead,
After many vicissitudes.
Let me use a singing voice,
Whispering your name.
If a pious soul,
Can drive out of Bai Lianhua,
Turn me into a lotus leaf,
Waiting for your bloom.
When you get old,
On the face after the beauty disappeared,
With the holy light of pilgrims,
Although youth is gone, beauty is blooming.
Please allow me to put the flying dust into the vase of years.
On the moonlit windowsill.
The night wind blows,
Let a good time,
Play it back in my mind over and over again.
Epiphyllum at night,
In the sleeping memory,
I stretched my petals shyly and felt a little tired.
Everything in the world,
Lost its luster in the aftertaste of love.
At that moment,
All the past events are gently sung into a delicate and gentle ballad,
In our own story,
Sing the same song over and over again
I wait for you in the silent night,
The wind messed up my hair.
I laughed,
See you pacing from a distance.
The boat of time,
A sentence as light as a feather crossed Ye Zhi.
I heard the bell of love,
Is to calmly ring the final loyalty!
Dear,
Please allow me to address you so kindly.
Love dust,
Hand in hand,
Stumbling days
In the memory of my later years,
It's all the sweetness of the past … ...
Your smile is not what it used to be.
There are many wrinkles.
Your black hair is not what it used to be.
Much whiter.
Your footsteps are no longer what they used to be,
Stumbling.
My voice is not what it used to be,
A little hoarse.
My shoulders are not what they used to be,
It's a little narrow.
My steps are not what they used to be,
A little slow.
When you get old,
My hair is gray,
My eyes are still on your face.
When you get old,
There are many wrinkles,
I will still watch the sunset with you!