Shelley
first part
There is a mimosa in the garden.
The wind of youth feeds it with silver nectar;
It opens its fan-shaped leaves to the sun,
The kiss of the night made it close the leaves again.
Spring rises in the beautiful garden,
Like the spirit of love, I feel her trace everywhere;
Flowers sprout on the dark chest of the earth,
Wake up from a hibernating dream.
But in gardens, fields and suburbs,
Nothing is like a lonely mimosa,
Like a sweet doe longing for love at noon,
Trembling, breathing that happiness.
First snow lotus, then violet,
Wake up on the warm ground soaked by rain,
Breathing mixed with the fresh smell of earth,
Like singing and instrumental music together;
Then there are colorful silver lotus and graceful tulips;
And daffodils, too beautiful to be overwhelmed.
He stared into his eyes in the depth of the current,
Finally, I lost my life for my beauty.
Lily in the deep valley is like a fairy in the water.
Passion makes it pale, youth makes it bright,
Through the elegant shade,
The trembling flower bell is bright.
Purple, white, blue hyacinthus orientalis,
Let out intoxicating bells from the flower bells,
Elegant, soft and rich music,
It feels like a sweet smell.
Roses are like fairies ready to take a bath,
Unbutton your clothes and reveal your chest as bright as jade.
Layer after layer, facing the charming air,
Expose the soul of love and beauty;
The slender lily is like a maiden in Dionysus.
Hold the moonlight cup high,
Until the burning star-its eyes,
Look straight at the kind sky through the clear dew.
There are also weak jasmine flowers, sweet hosta,
Its fragrance is unparalleled and it is the crown of all flowers;
Exotic flowers and grasses from all directions,
Thrive in the garden.
Water lilies with wide and trembling petals,
Lying on restless water—
Soft streams jump and slide,
Emit light and play sweet music.
A path covered with grass and moss,
Winding through the garden,
Or in the sunshine and wind not far away,
Or hidden in blooming flowers.
Full of daisies and hyacinthus orientalis,
As beautiful as the mythical evergreen flower,
As the sun sets, there are all kinds of small flowers.
I also hung my head to form a white, purple and blue gazebo.
Protect fireflies from night dew.
From this unpolluted paradise,
Those flowers (like babies' eyes when they wake up,
Smiling at my mother, her sweet singing.
Put him to sleep first, and wake him up at last)
When the happy wind in heaven opens them,
Like a miner's lamp igniting the magnificent brilliance of underground gems,
Every flower smiles at heaven,
Share happiness in the kind sunshine.
Because all the flowers are infected and infiltrated.
The fragrance and light from nearby flowers,
Just like young lovers get close by youth and love.
Wrapped and filled with each other's breath.
Mimosa feels love from root to leaf,
But without the fruit of love,
It accepts more, loves more,
When you only need it, you can fully devote yourself to it-
Because mimosa has no gorgeous flowers,
The gift of color and fragrance does not belong to it;
It loves like Cupid, full of enthusiasm.
It only longs for a treasure, the beauty it does not have!
Breeze never supports wings.
Pour out a deep and pleasant voice;
Flowers shine like stars,
Send your colors far away.
Winged insects, agile and free,
Like a golden boat, swimming at sea,
Full of glory and elegance,
Flying on the flickering green grass;
Invisible condensed clouds, like flames,
Lie stiffly among the flowers until the sun rises to the sky,
Just like an elf roaming in the starry sky, every fog cloud,
Drunk and hazy, because they are fragrant;
The dark water vapor trembled at noon,
Like the sea soaking the warm earth,
Every sound, smell and light moves in it,
Like reeds in a stream.
These are like angels,
Bring sweet happiness to mimosa-
When the day moves lazily,
Floating across the windless sky like a cloud.
When twilight comes from heaven,
The earth is peaceful and the air is full of love.
Less light, more joy,
When the curtain of the day rises, the world begins to dream.
Animals, birds and insects are all submerged in
Ocean of silent dreams,
Haibo never left a mark on his mind,
But it will leave ripples on the fine sand along the coast.
Only the sweet nightingale in mid-air,
The darker the sun, the more beautiful it sings.
That should just be music in the sky.
Did not enter the dream of mimosa),
The mimosa was the first to curl up,
Into a peaceful state of mind.
Like a lovely child who is tired of playing,
The weakest and the most spoiled,
Snuggle in the arms of the night.