Shakespeare
Can I compare you to a summer day?
You are more lovely and gentle.
The wind shook the lovely buds of May,
The lease in summer is too short.
Sometimes the eye of heaven shines too hot,
His golden complexion often darkens;
Every market sometimes declines,
The process of accidental or natural change has not been broken;
But your eternal summer will not fade
Nor will you lose the beauty you know;
Death will not boast that you wander in his shadow,
When you grow up in eternal lines:
As long as human beings can breathe and see,
This is eternal, which gives you life.
Your long summer will never fade.
How can I compare you to summer?
You are not only cuter than him, but also gentler than him;
The strong wind humiliated the buds that may have been loved.
The period of renting a house in summer is too short;
The eyes in the sky are sometimes too dazzling,
His shining golden face is often covered up;
Destroyed by chance or freedom paradise,
Without beauty, it will eventually wither or be destroyed.
But your long summer will never fade,
I won't lose your bright red fragrance;
Or death boasts that you wander in his shadow,
When you are as long as time in immortal poems.
As long as there are humans, or people have eyes,
This poem will live on and give you life.
2. When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy, and take a nap by the fire, take down this book and read it slowly, dreaming of the tenderness of your eyes and their deep shadows; How many people love your happy and elegant moments, love your beauty with hypocrisy or sincerity, but only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the sadness on your aging face; Bend down by the burning fireplace and whisper sadly, how love escaped, how to pace on the mountains overhead, and how to hide her face among the stars. I have been afraid, loved, hated, suffered, done and died, and I would feel happier if the spark that God lit my spirit was supplied with purer nutrition.
Full text: /t/lit/shelley/ 1/22/ ...
3. A poem about grass and life, a poem written by a foreigner. Hello, I'm glad to answer your question:
Judging from your question, it should be Whitman, an American poet, in the sixth chapter of My own Song.
The theme of the sixth section is "grass", which is synonymous with Whitman's poetry and life, and has symbolic significance from content to form.
Grass is the most common thing in the world. Don't people in this world like grass?
Grass is unrestrained. It is endless, dying unsatisfied and full of divinity.
Whitman praised grass with "the banner of character", "God's handkerchief", "baby" and "unified hieroglyphics", indicating that grass has consciousness, divinity and universality.
Then, Whitman borrowed Homer's poem "Beautiful hair on an untrimmed grave" to illustrate the rebirth of the dead. These dead people include young men, old people and premature babies, representing all kinds of lost lives.
Whitman also used a metaphor that grass is a "talking tongue", and the poet is trying to translate the "hint" of these dead people, and this hint is that "life" is not really dead, but they exist somewhere in another form, become stories, spread among relatives and families, become traditions, and become the land where future generations live. Yes, all these blessed dead people are watching us.
Whitman here, once again clarified his attitude towards death. "Death is luckier." Hehe, it feels like China's Taoist thought. Life and death are natural.
We can see that in the theme of the sixth section of Grass, Whitman mainly talks to us about "life and death" and life-death-regeneration-immortality, eternal cycle and endless life.
Now, let's see how Whitman wrote Weeds:
——————————————————————————————————————————
A child said, "What grass is this?" Hand it to me with your hands full;
How should I answer the child? Like him, I don't know.
I guess this must be the banner of my character, woven with hopeful green materials.
I guess it's either God's handkerchief,
This is a fragrant gift and souvenir specially left.
The owner's name is pasted on the four corners so that we can see and notice it and say, "Whose is this?"
I guess this grass itself is a child, a baby born in the plant kingdom.
I guess it's either a unified hieroglyph,
This means that new leaves can grow in wide or narrow areas.
Can grow up among whites and blacks,
Kenak people, Tebhoe people, congressmen, poor people, I give them the same things and treat them the same.
Now it seems to be uncut hair in the cemetery.
I will treat you gently, crooked grass,
You may be a young man's vomit,
If I knew them, maybe I would like them,
Maybe you come from an old man, or from a descendant who is about to leave her mother's womb.
You are mother's arms.
The grass is dark, and it can't come from the bald head of the old mother.
Blacker than the colorless beard of the elderly.
The black flowing from the mouth is like a reddish palate.
Ah, I finally see so many talking tongues.
Be careful not to pop out of the upper jaw for no reason.
I wish I could translate those vague hints about dead young men and women,
There are also some tips about old people, mothers, and future generations who are about to leave their mothers' arms.
What do you think happened to these young people and old people?
What do you think happened to these women and children?
They still live somewhere,
The smallest bud shows that there is no death in the world.
Even if there is, it will lead to life, instead of waiting until the end to strangle it.
As soon as life appears, death is over.
Everything went forward and outward without collapse.
Death is not as unfortunate as people think.
4. Beautiful foreign poems 1 Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sign. Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sign. Troupe of little vagrants of the world, please leave your footprints in my words.
Troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words. The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.
The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal. The tears of the earth keep her smile young. The boundless desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.
Great despair burns the love of a blade of grass. She shakes her head and flies away with a smile. The sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water.
Are you willing to bear the burden of lameness? The sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Are you willing to bear the burden of lameness? Her eager face haunts my dreams like the rain at night. Her wishing face haunts my dreams like rain at night. Once, we dreamed that we were strangers.
When we wake up, we know that we love each other. Once we dream that we are strangers. We woke up only to find each other dead. Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening in the silent forest.
Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening in the silent forest. Some invisible hands, like an idle breeze, are playing the music in my heart. Some unseen fingers, like an idle breeze, are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples. "This is an eternal question."
"What's your answer, sky?" "It's eternal silence." What is your language, sea water? The language of eternal questions. What's your answer, sky? The language of eternal silence. Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it loves you.
Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you. But the illusion of knowledge is like the fog in the morning.
The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night-it is great. The illusion of knowledge is like the fog in the morning. Don't seat your love on a cliff just because it is high. Don't seat your love on a cliff just because it is high.
I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, nods to me and goes. They whispered happily in my heart. These little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; They whispered happily in my heart. You can't see yourself, you can only see your own shadow.
You can't see yourself, all you see is your shadow. God, my wish is stupid. They shout in your song. Let me hear it.
My wishes are tools, and they should cross your song, my Lord. Let me listen. I can't choose the best. It's the best choice for me.
I can't choose the best. Those who carry the lamp on their backs cast their shadows in front. Those who carry the lamp on their backs cast their shadows in front of them. My existence is a permanent magic for me, and this is life.
My existence is a permanent surprise, and this is life. 23 "Our rustling leaves have a voice in response to the wind and rain. Who are you, so silent? " "I'm just a flower."
We, the rustling leaves, all have voices to respond to the storm, but who are you, so silent? "I'm just a flower. Rest is to work what eyelids are to eyes. Rest is what the eyes are to the eyes. 25 people are newborn children, and his strength is the strength of growth.
Man is a newborn child, and his strength is the strength of growth. God wants us to reward him because of the flowers he gave us, not the sun and the earth. God wants us to answer him in the flowers he gave us, not in the sun and the land. Light, like a naked child, plays happily among the green leaves. It doesn't know that people will cheat.
The light plays like a naked child, like a happy green leaf. It doesn't know that people can lie. Ah, beauty, find yourself in love, not in the flattery of your mirror. Ah, beauty, find yourself in love, not in the flat mirror of your mirror. My heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes on it her signature in tears: "I love you."
5. The famous poem about life, the deceased is like a husband, staying up all night (Confucius). If there is a gap between heaven and earth, it will come suddenly.
(Zhuangzi) The sky can be mended, the sea can be filled, and Nanshan can be moved. The sun and the moon have passed, so you can't chase them.
(Zeng Guofan) Do you love life? Then don't waste time, because time is the substance of life. (Franklin) To waste time is to waste life.
(Kawabata Yasunari) Time abandons those who abandon time. (Shakespeare) Time is life, time is speed and time is power.
(Guo Moruo) Time is like water in a sponge. As long as you are willing to squeeze, there is always something. (Lu Xun) Time is accumulated in minutes, and people who are good at using sporadic time will achieve greater success.
(China) Of all the critics, time is the greatest, the most correct and the most talented. (belinsky) Take time to think about what you have done all day, whether it is positive or negative.
(dimitrov) Time is the fastest and slowest, longest and shortest, most common and precious, most easily overlooked and most regrettable thing in the world. (Gorky) I can't come back when I am in my prime, but it's hard to wake up in the morning.
It's time for people to encourage themselves when they reach middle age. Time goes by and waits for no one. (Tao Yuanming) Tomorrow follows tomorrow, and there are so many tomorrows. I will wait for tomorrow, and everything will be wasted.
If the world is tired tomorrow, it will go to Qiu Lai as a veteran in spring. Watch the water flow eastward and the sunset at dusk.
A hundred years tomorrow can be geometric, please listen to my song of tomorrow. (Wen Jia's Song of Tomorrow) Life is a hero, but death is a ghost. No one has died since ancient times. Keep a glowing heart. Life is beautiful like summer flowers and death is beautiful like autumn leaves! Life is a gem carved by nature for human beings.
-Nobel Life is a dangerous narrow valley, only brave people can cross it. -Michel Pan The great soul will strengthen thought and life.
-Emerson There is only one kind of heroism in the world, that is, people who know life and love it. -romain rolland Only by giving our lives can we gain life.
-Tagore A full life is a long life. We should measure life by behavior rather than time.
Little seneca.
6. Please recommend some poems praising life or youth, preferably foreign poems. When I read them, the devil in my heart didn't die.
He is alive and well.
Just like in prison,
I feel like I'm in a cell,
The world is within the high wall.
The outlet consists of a knife and a shaft.
("The whole world is a stage."
The actor talks big. )
That hobbling clown
Not a clown:
As if enjoying the glory of the body,
Physically, it's like wearing an official robe.
May you live forever!
Treasure your life.
There are only poets in his bones.
It's like living a lie
No, my eloquent brother,
We won't have a good time.
In the flesh, it's like wearing a coat.
Father's pajamas
We deserve better.
We wither in the warmth.
It's like being locked in a bullpen,
Just like I'm in a boiler.
Miracles are disappearing.
We won't claim it.
Inside, it seems to be stuck in a swamp.
It's like being buried in the cellar of your body.
In the body, it seems to be at the farthest distance.
In exile. It is withering.
Being in the body is like being trapped in a secret.
In the body, it's like being stuck in a photo.
In the pliers of the iron mask
7. A short foreign poem with the same theme as Wang Guozhen's Love Life is a plain on the grass, and the second hand withers at the age of one.
In spring, wildfires never devour them. When the wind blows, second-hand newborns are extremely weak.
If the life world of Confucius day and night is amazing, it will suddenly lose time. (Zhuangzi) Heaven makes up, the sea can be filled, and the South Mountain can be moved.
The sun and the moon in the past can no longer catch up. What is your love life? So, don't waste time, because time is the substance of life.
(Franklin) To waste time is to waste life. When Kawabata Yasunari abandoned him, so did time.
(Shakespeare) Time is life, time is speed and time is power. Time is like water in a sponge. As long as you are willing to squeeze, there is always something.
(Lu) Many a mickle makes a mickle, and those who make good use of their spare time will make greater achievements. Of all the critics, time is the greatest, the most correct and the most talented.
(belinsky) Take time to think about whether what you want to do in a day is positive or negative. (dimitrov) Time is the fastest and slowest, the longest and shortest, the most ordinary and precious, the most easily overlooked and the most regrettable thing in the world.
(Gorky) Never start over, it's hard to get up in the morning. Timely encouragement, time waits for no one.
There are so many tomorrows, tomorrows, tomorrows. I will live for tomorrow, and everything will be wasted. Tomorrow's world, if they are all tired, old soldiers will go to Qiu Lai in spring.
Looking at the flowing water in the east, the twilight city looks at the sunset in the west. For centuries, tomorrow can be geometry. Please listen to my song, the king of tomorrow.
(Wen Jia's "Song of Tomorrow") is an outstanding person, and it is also a ghost hero's life since ancient times. According to historical records, life is as gorgeous as summer flowers and as beautiful as autumn leaves.