keats
My heart hurts, and I feel sleepy and numb.
I feel like hemlock I drank,
Or pour some anesthetic into the sewer
A minute has passed, and the worry has sunk.
My heart hurts, and I feel sleepy and numb.
Poisoned the senses, just like drinking poison,
I think I just swallowed opium.
Soon, these words were forgotten.
Not because I'm jealous of your happiness,
But too happy in your happiness—
You, Dryad in the Woods.
In some melodious plots
Beech green and countless shadows,
Sing summer with the loudest voice.
Not jealous of your luck,
I'm happy for your luck,
You, an elf with light wings in the forest,
Among the buildings of Beech under the greenwood tree,
Open your voice and sing summer.
Ah, for a bottle of wine! That's already
Cooled in the deep underground for a long time,
Taste the green of plants and countryside,
Dance, Provence songs, sunny laughter!
Oh, for a beaker full of warm south,
Full of real, bright red inspiration,
Bead bubbles flicker at the edge,
And a purple mouth
I might drink it so that the world can't see it,
Disappear with you in the dark forest
Hey, have a drink! Nalengcang
Ethylene glycol has been buried underground for many years.
Tastes like the flower god, the green earth,
Dance, love songs and burning joy!
Hey, a glass full of southern warmth,
Full of bright red inspiration,
The pearl foam on the edge of the cup sparkles,
The purple of the lips;
I want to drink it so that I can't see the world.
Follow you into the depths of the dark forest
Disappear far away, dissolve, forget completely
What you don't know in the leaves,
Fatigue, fever and anxiety
Here, people sit together and listen to each other's groans;
Paralysis shook a few sad last white hairs,
There, youth becomes pale, haggard and dead;
Except thinking, where will it be full of sadness?
And leaden despair,
Beauty cannot keep her bright eyes,
Or new love will languish for them after tomorrow.
Far away, disappear, forget completely
What you didn't know in the forest,
Fatigue, fever and impatience
Here, people sit down and listen to each other's groans;
Paralysis shook for a while, sadness, the last few strands of white hair,
Youth is pale, eccentric and thin, and then dies;
Lead-eyed despair;
Beauty can't open her eyes,
New relationships can't last forever.
Go away. Go away. Because I will fly to you,
Not driven by Barkis and his buddies,
But on the invisible wings of poetry,
Although the dull brain is confused and dull
I am already with you! The night is gentle,
Maybe the moon queen is on her throne,
The stars surround all her fairies;
But there is no light here,
Except for the breeze from heaven
Through the green darkness and winding moss road.
Let's go Let's go I want to fly to you,
Didn't run over Dionysus's car and his entourage,
On the invisible wings of poetry,
Although this confused mind has followed you,
The night is gentle, and after a month.
On her throne,
Surrounded by all her star fairies,
But there's no light here or there,
Some skylight is blown green by the breeze,
And the winding path of moss.
I can't see any flowers at my feet,
I don't know what kind of incense is hanging on the branches,
However, in the darkness of anti-corrosion, guess every sweet one.
What does the timely month give it?
Grassland, bushes and wild fruit trees;
White hawthorn and pastoral;
Leaves cover the withered violets;
The oldest child in mid-May,
The upcoming musk rose, full of dew wine,
A place where flies haunt on summer nights.
I can't see clearly which flowers are at my feet.
What kind of soft fragrance hangs on the high branches,
But in the warm darkness, guess every sweetness.
With its seasonal gift.
Grass, shrubs, wild fruit trees
White hawthorn and garden roses;
Violets that wither easily in leaves;
The first time was in May and mid-May,
This musk rose is full of dew,
On summer nights, flies are buzzing inside.
I listened to the darkness; Moreover, many times.
I almost fell in love with a peaceful death,
Call him by a gentle name in many thoughtful rhymes,
Bring my quiet breath into the air;
There seems to be more death than ever before,
Stop painlessly at midnight,
When you pour out your soul
In such ecstasy!
You can still sing, but my ears are empty-
Turn into a turf in front of your high requiem.
How many times have I heard of the night?
I almost fell in love with a quiet death,
Calling her gentle name in so many meditative rhymes,
Weaving into a song, I breathe silently;
Now she's dying more beautifully,
Flying in the middle of the night without sadness,
When you pour out your soul
So fanatical!
You're still singing, I can't hear you,
Your Gao 'an Soul Music is facing the friction of dirt.
Immortal bird, you were not born to die!
No hungry generation tramples on you;
The voice I heard on this lost night
In ancient times, emperors and clowns:
Maybe the same song found a way.
Through Ruth's sad heart, when she is homesick,
She stood in a strange cornfield with tears in her eyes;
The same thing often happens.
Charming magic window, open the foam.
A dangerous ocean, in an abandoned fairyland.
Lonely! This word is like a clock.
Let me go back to myself from you!
Goodbye! Fantasy can't cheat so well.
She is famous for deceiving herself.
Goodbye! Goodbye! Your sad hymn is gone
Across the nearby grass, across the quiet stream,
Climb the hillside; Now it's buried deep
In the next valley-glade:
Is this an illusion or a waking dream?
The music disappeared: Am I awake or asleep?
Fairy bird! You weren't born to die!
Hungry time can't ravage you;
What did I hear on this lost night?
It was also heard by the ancient emperors and clowns;
Maybe the same song is in Ruth's sad heart.
Found a way, and when she missed her hometown,
Standing in the valley of a foreign country and crying;
This voice often
Shocked the window sash of the lost fairy tale city
Watch the foam spray
Lost! The words rang like a silver bell.
Take me away from you, alone!
Farewell! Fantasy can't continue to deceive.
When she was no longer capable,
Farewell! Farewell! Your sad hymn
Back to the back lawn, flowing through the stream,
Surging on the hillside; And at this time, it deeply
Buried in the shadow of the next valley:
Is it illusion or dream?
The song is gone: am I awake? I fell asleep?
————————————————————
Attached is another masterpiece: Ruthless Beauty: A Ballad.
1
Oh, what bothers you, kings,
Wandering alone and pale?
The sedge in the lake has withered,
No birds sing.
2
Oh, what bothers you, kings,
So haggard, so sad?
The squirrel's granary is full,
The harvest has been finished.
three
I see a lily on your forehead.
With painful humidity and feverish dew,
Without you, your cheek is a withered rose.
It's dying, too
four
I met a lady on the grass,
Plump and beautiful, a fairy's child;
Her hair is long and her feet are light.
Her eyes are wild.
five
I made a wreath for her head,
There are bracelets and fragrant belts;
She looked at me as if she loved me,
Give a sweet moan.
six
I put her on the street where I was pacing,
I haven't seen anything all day,
She would lean over and sing.
A fairy song.
seven
She found my delicious root very sweet,
Wild honey, manna,
She said in strange language-
I really love you.
eight
She took me to her bistro,
She cried and sighed,
I closed her wild eyes.
Four kisses.
nine
She put me to sleep,
I dreamed-ah! What bad luck
The latest dream I had.
On the cold hillside.
10
I saw the pale king and the prince,
Pale warrior, pale death;
They cried, "beautiful woman without pity.
You're enslaved! '
1 1
I saw their tight lips in the dark.
Give a terrible warning,
I woke up and found me here.
On the cold hillside.
12
That's why I'm here,
Wandering pale alone,
Although the sedge in the lake has withered,
No birds sing.
——————————————————————————
By autumn
John keats J.
1
The season of mist and ripe fruit,
A close confidant of the mature sun,
Plot with him how to load and bless.
The vines around the thatched roof are full of fruits;
Bend the mossy cottage with apples,
Let all fruits fully mature;
Bulge the gourd and hazelnut shell.
There is a sweet kernel; In order to increase budding,
More importantly, later, the flowers of bees,
Until they think the warm days will never stop,
Because summer flooded their cold cells.
2
Who doesn't often see you in your shop?
Sometimes, no matter who goes abroad to look for it, they will find it.
You sit casually on the floor of the granary,
Your hair is blown by the wind;
Or sleep soundly in the half-harvested furrow,
Pour it with poppy smoke, and your hook
Let go of the next flower and all the tangled flowers.
Sometimes you are like a gleaner.
Stabilize your loaded head across the stream;
Or use cyder-press, watch patiently,
You watched the last seepage hour after hour.
three
Where are the songs of spring? Well, where are they?
Don't think about them, you also have your music,
When the striped clouds are in full bloom in the dying days,
Touch the stubble plain with rose color;
Then in the noisy choir, the little gnats mourned.
In the river, rising high
Or sink like a breeze, live or die;
The loud bleating of adult lambs came from the hilly area;
Hedge crickets sing; Now use a high-pitched soft voice
The red chest whistle forms a garden;
The gathered swallows are whispering in the sky.
Akimatsu
1
There is fog and ripe fruit in autumn.
You become friends with the mature sun;
You conspired to use countless beads,
The eaves of Mao are covered with vines;
Let the old tree in front of the house bear apples,
Let the ripe taste penetrate into the heart of the fruit,
Make the gourd swell the hazelnut shell,
Good into the sweet core; For bees.
Flowers that bloom late again and again,
Let them think that the days will be warm forever,
Because summer fills their sticky nests very early.
2
Who doesn't often see you with the barn?
You can also find it in the fields.
Mi sometimes sits on the threshing floor at will,
Let the hair flutter gently with the wind of winnowing the grain;
Sometimes, addicted to the fragrance of poppies,
You're lying on a half-harvested ridge,
Let the sickle rest next to the flowers in the flower bed next door;
Or, like a gleaner across a stream,
You hold your head high, carry a grain bag, and cast your reflection.
Or sit under a fruit juicer for hours,
You patiently looked at the slowly dripping wine slurry.
three
Ah. Where is Haruka? But don't.
Think about it, you have your music-
When the wavy clouds reflect a dying day,
Wipe the scattered fields with cinnabar,
At this time, there are a group of small flying insects under the willows by the river.
They all started to lament, and suddenly they flew very high.
Suddenly falling, ups and downs with the breeze;
In the garden, crickets under the fence are singing.
Robins with red breasts will whistle in groups;
And the sheep bleated loudly and silently in the mountain circle;
Swallows in Cong Fei are whispering in the sky.
In addition, there is the poem Guo Guo and Cricket.
18 16 published her first novel, Oh, Loneliness.