I recently bought an anthology of Auden's poems: 1948- 1973, which is the second anthology of Auden's poems. I didn't expect much from it at first, but I just wanted to read the poem by myself. One night, when I was sleepy, I lay in bed, leafed through the book beside the bed and read a few poems briefly. This book deeply attracted me, feeling that the language was so rich and charming and the poet's imagination was so free. The following are just mountains randomly extracted from the pastoral poetry of Auden's poems, to share with you, so that you can really feel the charm of Auden's poems.
I know a retired dentist who only paints mountains. Masters seldom pay so much attention to this subject.
They only add them to the vision when drawing the heads of saints or dangerous big men;
In the eyes of ordinary people, they are like a wall between good and evil.
For example, a child in France was scolded,
You wish you were crying on the Italian side of the Alps;
When the mountains blacken the map, Caesar will be unhappy, and so will the ladies.
Why is this happening?
A serious person badly needs a gap.
It's strange that you often meet some guy on steep terrain, short and frowning.
Will constantly beat the daisy's corolla with crutches;
Gangsters in big cities will be like a duck to water,
But the castle on the cliff-remember Drakula-is the right place to tame the devil.
Those unsmiling people set out at dawn with mysterious equipment and climbed high in groups.
It's really scary to watch;
They are balanced, brave and spiritual.
But what kind of God is their order for?
Civilized people are citizens.
So I will see, for example, the piano, another bourgeois invention, in the Lake District?
Oh, I won't. How could I?
When you change from an express train to a local train at Penris, Zurich or any hub station,
The train will soon enter the fork in the road. At the moment, I just hope the platform is on the moon.
Soon after the tunnel, the red farm retreated and disappeared, and the trees were replaced by stone walls.
Cows become sheep, you smell peat or pine,
When you first heard the waterfall,
A mountain that looks like a huge wall finally presents a world of self-measurement and a loose style.
In order to control, the angels of ice and stone hate any form of growth and do not encourage secret attempts.
Their day-and-night surveillance made the body so mediocre:
Here, the cross on the roadside witnessed the atrocities that happened to people.
And serenade only loyal to the basic facts:
"Oh, my daughter has a goiter and there is a hole in the sole of my shoe!"
Gloomy. But it is still an excellent refuge. The shepherd boy has an ancestral round skull.
Previously, his family fled here for fear of a more powerful enemy.
There is also a quiet old gentleman who has a cheap apartment in Black Hawk.
In the past, he owned three newspapers under his name, but now it is not accepted by society:
These farms will see panting cabinet officials coming;
I consider myself a Nordic, but even so, I prefer to avoid the entanglement of my neighbors.
A few hills away, living alone.
Finally, I can sit alone in a quiet place and lie prone on the warm roof of the attic like a cat.
A tributary of an icy lake in the mountains happily crossed a green farmland and rushed down.
Flowers adorn it, gorgeous as a China poem,
At this moment, a true lover is preparing a delicious lunch.
Why do these make me so happy? Only five minutes? I am not a cat,
For a lost creature, even on this most beautiful mountain,
Five minutes is long enough.