I didn't remember this poem at all when I read The Bridges of Madison County. I was probably too young to read the story and didn't pay attention to the details and the imagery of the poem.
The full text of this poem is as follows
Ye Zhi-Song of the Wanderer Angus
I went to hazel grove,
Because there's a fire in my head,
Cut off a hazel branch,
Hook a berry with a thread;
When the white moth is flying,
Moth-like stars are shining,
I threw berries into the stream.
Caught a little silver trout.
When I put it on the floor
I'll light the fire,
But something rustled on the floor,
Someone called my name:
It became a shining girl,
There are apple blossoms in her hair.
Whoever called my name ran away.
Disappear into the bright air.
Although I am old, I am no longer wandering.
Despite the depressions and hills,
I'll find out where she went,
Kiss her lips and hold her hand;
Walking along the mottled grass,
Picking until time passes,
Silver apples of the moon,
The golden apple of the sun.
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
The first time I read this poem was in the bestseller Bridges of Madison County.
I soon forgot the name of the poem, only remembering the two sentences at the end, Silver Apples of the Moon and Golden Apples of the Sun. I always feel like some kind of pagan mysterious spell.
I happened to see it in a forum before going to bed last night, and I remembered this topic.
This is a tramp's song
And vagrants always seem to be looking for something.
Something that will never be discovered.
Odysseus wandered for ten years, and finally returned to the home he missed day and night, and returned to the place where he started.
But how can those Greeks who believe that people can't step into the same river twice return to their original place so easily?
Maybe it's just starting to prepare for the next homeless person.