The first day of September is Tuesday.
It rained all night.
All the birds flew back to the south.
How lonely and brave I am.
I didn't even watch them travel.
The lonely blue sky was broken.
Rain covered its last blue.
I don't need the south.
-"Augusta's New Poetry" fragment
I stood with you on the washerwoman bridge.
Like two long arms of a midnight clock.
Hug, then parting, not a day,
But day after day.
-"On the washerwoman's Bridge"
Pushkin
Go to the seaside
Goodbye, free element!
For the last time, in front of my eyes
Your blue waves are rolling,
Your proud beauty shines.
Like a friend's melancholy whisper,
It seems that he said hello when he left.
For the last time, I listen to you.
Shouting loudly, your gloomy complaints.
The country I yearn for wholeheartedly, the sea!
How often, on your shore?
I wander quietly and confusedly,
Think hard about my long-cherished wish.
Ah, how I like to hear your echo,
Mute voice, song of the abyss,
I like to hear your silence at dusk,
And your wayward temper!
Fisherman's sail
Your moody protection
Slide boldly between two teeth,
But if you get rough and can't overcome it,
Groups of fishing boats will be wiped out.
I can't leave until now.
This frozen stone coast bothers me,
I haven't embraced you warmly, sea!
Nor did it shake my poetry.
Take your ridge and run away!
You're expecting, calling ... I'm tied down,
My heart tried in vain to break free,
A stronger feeling attracted me,
So I stayed on the shore. ...
What is there to cherish? Where is it now?
It allows me to run on the open road.
There is only one thing in your desolation.
Maybe it excites me.
Cliffs and glorious graves ...
There, all kinds of good memories.
Sinked into a cold dream,
Ah, Napoleon put it there.
He was buried in misery.
Followed by him, another genius.
Like a storm passing in front of us,
Ah, another master of our hearts.
He went, making freedom with tears in his eyes!
He left his laurel to the world.
Make a hullabaloo about, angry at the bad weather,
Oh, the sea He used to be in song for you.
He is shaped by your essence,
Sea, he is your reflection;
He is as deep, powerful and gloomy as you,
He is as stubborn as you.
The world is empty ... Oh, the ocean,
Where can you take me now?
Everywhere, people's fate is the same:
Where there is happiness, there is education.
Or tyrants are very heavily guarded.
Goodbye, sea! You are amazingly beautiful
I will never forget it;
I will listen for a long time.
Your rumble at dusk.
My heart is full of you, I want to put
Your rock, your bay,
Your light and shadow, the trembling of your waves,
To the forest, to the silent wasteland.
Fountains in Bakhsala
( 182 1- 1823)
Translated by Cha Liang Zheng.
Many people, like me,
Look at this fountain;
But some people died,
Others are scattered in the distance.
-Sandy land
Gilead sat there, his eyes dark,
His amber cigarette holder smokes fiercely;
The humble courtiers were silent.
Surrounded by this majestic Khan.
There was silence in the courtroom,
All people respect it.
From Khan's gloomy face
I saw signs of worry and anger.
But the proud emperor was impatient;
With the wave, that a group of courtiers said
He bowed and left the golden palace.
He sat alone in the hall,
This makes breathing easier,
His forehead is getting worse.
Express your inner excitement clearly,
It's like a mirror in the bay.
Reflecting violent clouds.
What inspired that arrogant heart?
What's on his mind?
Is it going to war with Russia again?
Or do you want to pass the law on to Poland?
Is there a sea of blood burning in your heart?
Or did you find a conspiracy in the army?
Is he afraid of heroes in the mountains?
Or Genoa's scheming?
That's not true. Glory on the battlefield
He is tired of it; That powerful arm
He is tired. His idea
It has nothing to do with the war.
Is this another kind of rebellion?
Sneak into the harem from the sinful path,
Don't the concubines in the claustrophobic palace
Who gave his heart to the cult?
That's not true. Gilead's cowardly wives and concubines
I don't even have the courage to think so;
They are under strict and ruthless supervision,
Like a flower, blooming in melancholy silence;
In their boring days,
Never knew what cheating was.
Their beauty is safely
In the shadow of prison,
It's like an Arabian flower.
Parasitic in a glass greenhouse.
They kill time day after day—
Ah, the melancholy years are endless,
Look at your youth and love.
Before you know it, you drift with the flow.
For them, every day is so monotonous,
Every quarter of an hour is so slow.
In the harem, life is extremely lazy,
It rarely flashes the color of laughter.
Young concubines are listless,
I thought of some ways to get rid of my heart,
Instead of changing into gorgeous clothes,
Just playing some games and chatting.
Or walk together.
By the noisy fountain,
Hanging high on the clear water,
Strolling among the dense maple trees.
Fierce eunuchs followed,
If you want to avoid him, you must not;
His eyes and ears of supervision
Keep an eye on them.
With his unremitting efforts.
Establish an eternal order.
Khan's will is his only code;
Even the sacred teachings of the Koran,
It's not that strict.
He never wanted to attract attention,
Like a puppet, he suffered.
People's ridicule, accusations, hatred,
And insulting jokes,
Contempt, supplication, gentle sigh,
A look of fear, an angry complaint
He is familiar with a woman's character;
Whether you intend it or not,
Cunning, he knows everything.
Gentle eyes, tearful and wordless condemnation,
Has long been unable to arouse his sympathy,
Because he doesn't believe in it anymore.
In summer, young ladies-in-waiting hang freely.
Soft curly hair, bathed in spring,
They let the clear waves of the spring water
Flowing down from the beautiful and charming body,
And he, the jailer, never leaves.
Watch them laugh; Go to this group.
Naked beauty, not tempted.
At night, he often takes advantage of the dark,
Walking around the palace on tiptoe;
He stepped on the carpet,
Push open the light door and sneak into the bedroom.
Then walk through one bed after another;
He wants to see these sleeping concubines.
What a beautiful dream,
There is nothing to eavesdrop on;
Anyone who breathes and sighs, even the lightest.
Trembling, he is deeply concerned;
As long as someone calls an outsider in a dream.
A name, or a close girlfriend.
A little confession,
Then she is in trouble!
But why is Gilead's heart troubled?
The pipe in his hand is black;
The eunuch waited at the door for orders,
Don't move, even dare not vent.
The thoughtful Khan stood up from his seat,
The door was wide open, and he silently
For those who were optimistic not long ago,
Those concubines walked into the forbidden palace.
They sat on the smooth felt.
Surrounded by fountains,
Laughing and teasing each other,
When Khan is careless.
They are full of childish happiness.
Looking at the fish in the clear water,
Swimming at the bottom of the marble pool.
Someone deliberately put gold earrings.
Fall into the water and keep company with fish.
At this time, the cool and fragrant juice
It was handed down by slave girls in turn,
Suddenly, the whole palace
There is a crisp and beautiful song.
The young princess Maria
Or just living in a foreign country,
In the old country, she looks like a flower.
I haven't fought for Yan for a long time.
She enjoyed her father's old age,
He felt proud and comforted for her.
Listen to everything she says,
A daughter's mind is her father's password.
There is only one thing in the old man's mind:
I hope my daughter's lifelong fate.
Can be as clear as spring;
He is willing to: even a moment of sadness.
Don't cast a shadow over her heart;
He even hoped that she would get married.
I have been thinking about girls' youth.
Think of happy days, so sweet,
Like a spring dream, it flew away.
Oh, how charming everything about her is:
Quiet personality, lively and soft.
Manners, tiredness and pale green eyes.
This is a wonderful gift from nature.
She added artistic decoration:
At the banquet at home, she often
Play a song to fascinate the guests.
How many powerful people and rich people, groups?
To propose to Maria,
How many young people feel sorry for her in the dark.
However, in her calm heart.
She doesn't know what love is yet,
All I know is that at home, with a group of girlfriends.
Laugh, play and have a carefree time.
But how long has it been! Tatar warrior
Pour into Poland like running water;
In the blink of an eye, there was a barn fire.
It has never spread so fast.
This used to be a magnificent mountain and river.
Destroyed by war;
The joy of peace has faded,
Woods and villages are desolate,
The tall palace was empty,
Maria's boudoir became silent. ...
At home, powerful ancestors
Still dreaming cold dreams,
But the new tomb was crowned.
And weapons, and add them. ...
Father rested, daughter was arrested,
The despicable strongman inherited the palace,
The whole rivers and mountains are desolate everywhere,
Be humiliated under heavy chains.