The most beautiful confession poem in the world
Flowering tree
-Xi Murong (China)
How to let you meet me
In my best moment, for this.
I prayed in front of the Buddha for 500 years.
Pray for Buddha to let us have a dusty relationship.
Buddha made me a tree.
Follow the path you may take.
In the blooming flowers, I wait in the sun.
Blooming is my hope in my previous life, when you come near.
Listen carefully
Trembling leaves
Yes, I'm waiting
Keep warm
When you finally walk past the person who falls behind you.
My friend,
Not falling petals
But my withered heart.
Freedom and love
-Petofi (Hungary)
Life is precious,
Love is more expensive;
If it's for freedom,
You can throw both!
If life cheats you.
-Pushkin (Russia)
If life deceives you,
Don't be sad, don't be impatient!
You need to keep calm in blue days;
Believe it, happy days will come.
My heart always yearns for the future, but now it is often melancholy; Everything is instantaneous, everything will pass,
And what has passed will become a beautiful memory.
Rain Alley
—— Dai Wangshu (China)
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Mourning in the rain,
Sad and confused.
She wandered in the lonely rain lane,
Hold an oil-paper umbrella
Like me,
Like me,
In silence,
Cold, sad, melancholy.
She approached quietly.
Get close and throw again.
Breathing eyes,
She floated by.
well
Sad and confused like a dream.
Floating like a dream
A lilac field,
I passed this girl by;
She left quietly, left,
A crumbling fence,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Disappeared, even hers
Breath, lilac-like melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
when you are old
-Ye Zhi (Ireland)
When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy,
Take a nap by the fire, please write down this poem.
Read slowly, recall the softness of your eyes in the past, and recall their thick shadows in the past;
How many people love you when you are young and happy,
Worship your beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity,
Only one person loves your pilgrim soul,
Love the painful wrinkles on your aging face;
I hung my head, by the red fire,
Whispering sadly about the passing of love,
On the mountain overhead, it walked slowly.
A face is hidden among a group of stars.