Simple and good at remembering English poems: When you want to light me up,
When one day you decide to look down on me,
Put my achievements in contempt,
Measure my weight with contemptuous eyes,
I will stand by your side and fight with myself,
I'll take your side and hit myself,
Prove your virtue, though you swear.
Prove your virtue, even if you have broken the alliance.
I know my weaknesses best,
Since I know my weaknesses so well,
As far as you are concerned, I can write a story.
For your benefit, I will make up everything.
Hidden mistakes, I was attacked,
No one realizes the fault and slanders himself;
You will win more glory without me:
So that you can abandon me and get glory instead;
I will also benefit from it.
And I can also gain a lot from it;
Because I pour all my love into you,
Because all my feelings are inclined to you,
The damage I've done to myself,
All the insults I provoked
Good for you, bad for me.
If it's good for you, it's double for me.
This is my love, I belong to you,
I belong to you so sincerely, I love it so much,
For your rights, I will bear all the mistakes.
For the sake of your good reputation, I am willing to bear all the slander.
Simple and good at memorizing English poems: it is the full sail of pride in his great poems.
His poetry is vigorous and powerful, is it majestic?
For your precious reward,
Sail for your precious life,
This shattered the mature ideas in my mind,
Let my mature thoughts miscarry in my brain,
Let their graves become their growing wombs?
Turn their placenta into a graveyard?
It is his soul, the soul taught to write.
Did he learn to write from ghosts?
Above a fatal pitch, am I dead?
Very epigram, beat me to death?
No, not him, nor his companion.
No, neither he nor the night.
Giving him help surprised my poem.
Sending it to his assistant will put me in a coma.
He is not the amiable and familiar ghost.
He, or his amiable ghost
Every night fills him with wisdom.
It deceives him with wit every night. Don't be proud.
My silent winner cannot boast;
They knocked me down and silenced me;
I don't have any fear of getting sick;
Their threats don't scare me.
But when your face fills his lines,
But when his poems are full of your encouragement,
So lack of my question; Weaken my strength.
I will lack inspiration; This is what makes me depressed.
I never found you need to draw.
I never thought you needed makeup,
So your fairness has no painting collection;
So don't powder your face;
I found, or think I found, that you exceeded.
I find, or think I find, your charm.
The barren tenderness of the poet's debt;
Far more than the poet's tasteless bid:
So I slept in your report,
So, the song about you and me is just pretending to take a nap,
Your own existing may show
So you can show yourself vividly,
How short is the modern quill pen?
Prove how clumsy the current writing is,
Speaking of value, your value is growing.
I want to add virtue, the virtue in you.
Your silence on my sins,
You think my silence is my crime,
This will be my greatest glory, silence;
In fact, it should be my greatest glory;
Because I don't harm the beauty of silence,
Because I don't say anything about beauty,
When others give life and bring graves.
People want to give you life, but they bury you.
There is more life in your beautiful eyes.
The imitation of praise by you two poets,
More praise than you two poets can think of.