Woven with gold and silver ribbons,
With deep blue at night and shallow light during the day.
And a soft piece of dark embroidery,
I'll spread it gently under your feet:
But I have nothing but dreams;
So I spread the dream at your feet;
Step on it gently, because you are stepping on my dream.
He wants clothes from heaven.
William Butler Yeats
If I had embroidered cloth from heaven,
Wrapped in gold and silver light,
Blue, dull and dark clothes
Night, light and half bright and half dark,
I'll spread the cloth at your feet;
But I, poor, only have my dreams;
I spread my dream at your feet;
Tread gently, because you step on my dream.
1988
-
The most quoted poem in Ye Zhi's poetry is:
Thinking about the beginning and end of the supreme glory of mankind;
I am honored to say that I have had such a friend.
-Ye Zhi City Library
When You Are Old is a poem that Ye Zhi is most familiar with.
◆ Translated by Yuan Kejia
When you are old, when you are old, your head is white,
Sleepy, nodding by the fire, please write down this poem and read it slowly.
Think back to the softness of your eyes in the past and their heavy shadows in the past;
How many people love your beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity when you are young and happy,
Only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face;
Hanging my head, by the glowing fire, I whispered sadly about the disappearance of love.
On the mountain overhead, it walked slowly, hiding its face among a group of stars.
Both the hero and heroine in the movie The Bridges of Madison County like Ye Zhi's poem Song of a Wanderer very much.
I went to hazel forest.
In order to have a fire in my heart
I cut a branch and peeled it off.
Thread berries on a thread with a hook.
The white moth flapped its wings.
Moth-like stars twinkle in the night sky
I threw the berries into the river.
A little silver trout took the bait.
I put it on the floor.
Go over there and blow up the fire a little more.
But there is something rustling on the floor.
Someone called my name in my ear again.
Little trout has already become a looming girl.
She wears an apple wreath on her head.
She shouted my name and ran away.
I don't know where I am at dawn.
Although I am old, my hair is gray.
Wandering in the barren hills for many years
I have to find her trail.
Kiss her lips.
Then hold her hand tightly.
We walked along the sunny grass together.
Choose the end of time,
Just her and me.
Silver apples of the moon
The golden apple of the sun