1. My love is not a nightingale.
My love is not a nightingale. I wake up in the morning greeting and sing a wonderful song in the land that is prosperous because of the kiss of the sun.
My love is not a lovely garden. There is a white dove floating on the quiet lake, nodding to the moonlight reflected in the water.
My love is not a happy home, like a garden, full of peace and happiness, living like a mother and giving birth to a fairy: beautiful joy.
My love is a desolate forest; Among them, jealousy is like a robber, holding a sword in his hand: despair, every stab is a cruel death.
2. Close integration with Baboro (Uruguay)
I grew up for you. Put me down, my acacia needs your attention.
I grow into a flower for you. Cut me off, I don't know if my lily is in bud or has grown into a flower.
I'm Ranbo, and I'm doing it for you. Drink me, even the crystal is jealous of my clear water.
I grew wings for you. Chase me, I am a moth flying around your passion.
I'm willing to suffer for you. Your love hurts me and makes me sweet! Axes and hunting nets also make me happy, so do scissors and thirst!
Give you all my blood, my love. This blood clot condenses into a bright red scar, and no button is as beautiful as it. What jewelry can be more beautiful than it?
I pinned seven bone spurs in my hair instead of crystal hair clips. In my ear, replace agate earrings with red-hot fireballs.
Look at me in such pain, you are laughing.
You will suffer, and then you will no longer be my sweetheart!
3. To Clemot Wei Erlun (France)
Mysterious boat songs, silent heart songs, dear, since your eyes are as blue as the sky,
Since your voice is like a strange ghost that disturbs my mind and drives it crazy,
Since your heart is white and fragrant, since your breath is pure and pure,
Ah, since your whole body is like touching music, like the light wheel, tone and fragrance of the past years,
The gentle rhythm connects heart to heart, sensing my sensitive heart. I hope this is true!
4. I want to be Rapids ... Petofi (Hungarian)
I would like to be a torrent, a mountain stream, walking on rugged roads and rocks … as long as my lover is a small fish, swimming happily in my waves.
I would like to be a barren forest, on both sides of the river, bravely fighting against the wind … as long as my lover is a bird, nesting and singing in my dense branches.
I would like to be a ruin, on a steep rock, this silent destruction does not make me feel depressed … as long as my love, the ivy of youth, climbs up intimately along my desolate forehead.
I would like to be a hut, at the bottom of a deep valley, at the top of the hut, to be destroyed by wind and rain … as long as my lover, a lovely flame, shines slowly and happily in my stove.
I would like to be a cloud, a broken gray flag, lazily floating in the vast sky, as long as my lover is a coral-like sunset glow, blooming brilliantly beside my pale face.
5. Here-Shelley (UK)
There is a word that is often abused, and I don't want to abuse it again; There is a feeling that is not valued, how can we despise it again? There is a kind of hope that is too much like despair, and prudence cannot crush it; Just asking for your heartfelt pity is extremely precious to me.
What I offer can't be called love, but worship, and even God is willing to look down upon it. I don't know. You should be a stranger, right? It's like a moth longing for the starry sky and the night wanting to embrace the dawn. How can we not let the sad world fall in love with distant things?
6. When you are old, Ye Zhi (Irish)
When you are old, white-haired, sleepy and dozing by the fire, please take this poem down and read it slowly, recalling the tenderness of your past eyes and their heavy shadows; How many people love the beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity of adore you when you are young and happy? Only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face. He hung his head and sat by the red fire, whispering sadly about the passing of love. On the mountain overhead, he walked slowly, hiding his face among a group of stars.
7. Recite Goethe to the Moon (Germany)
You have trapped the whole Jennie Wang in the still mist again, and my soul has completely dissolved;
I have been looking forward to my countryside, like a bosom friend's eyes.
My heart often vibrates with the echo of sadness and joy. Wandering between pain and happiness when no one is around.
Come on, lovely river! I will never be happy again: vows, hugs and songs all flow like this.
I once owned this rare treasure! It fills you with worries and will never forget your feelings!
Sing, the river along the valley is not calm, sing, please sing softly for my song!
Let your waves rise angrily on a cold winter night, or urge buds to bloom in a sunny spring.
Happiness, who can stay away from the world without hatred and share it with a bosom friend.
What people can't guess and think of-wandering in the maze in their chests at night.
8. When you are old.
Author: Ye Zhi (Ireland)
When you are old, white-haired, sleepy and dozing by the fire, please take this poem down and read it slowly, recalling the tenderness of your past eyes and their heavy shadows;
How many people love the beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity of adore you when you are young and happy? Only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face.
He hung his head and whispered sadly about the disappearance of love by the red fire. On the mountain overhead, he walked slowly, hiding his face among a group of stars.
9. I want to be a torrent
Author: Petofi (Hungary)
I would like to be a torrent or a mountain stream, walking on the rocky road.
As long as my lover is a small fish, swimming happily in my waves.
I want to be a barren forest on both sides of the river, and I fight bravely in the face of a gust of wind.
As long as my lover is a bird, it is my guest among the dense branches.
I hope the ruins are on steep cliffs. This silent destruction has not depressed me.
As long as my lover is green ivy, I will climb up intimately along my desolate forehead.
I hope it's a thatched cottage at the bottom of the valley, beaten by wind and rain.
As long as my lover is lovely, the flame flashes slowly and happily in my stove.
I wish the clouds were gray broken flags, floating around lazily in the vast sky.
As long as my lover is a coral sunset, it will shine brightly beside my pale face.
10. Rosa roxburghii
Author: Goethe (Germany)
The teenager saw a rose, a little rose in the wilderness.
So delicate, so bright
The teenager hurried forward and looked very happy.
Rose, rose, red rose, little rose in the wilderness.
The boy said I'm going to pick your little roses in the wilderness.
Ross said I would stab you.
Let you never forget that I don't want to be picked by you.
Rose, rose, red rose, little rose in the wilderness.
The savage teenager went to her wilderness to pick small roses.
Ross stabbed him in self-defense, and Ross held back his tears in vain.
Or is it broken?
Rose, rose, red rose, little rose in the wilderness.