"Two things," Kant said, "let me respect:
The starry sky overhead and the moral law in the heart. "
I know one thing, even more awesome-
The enduring patience of the plundered poor.
Originally, I didn't want to choose this classic, because like john donne's For Whom the Bell Tolls and The Prayer of Kawafis, everyone is familiar with it, but I finally couldn't help choosing it. Hehe, you can't choose because you are used to touching your right hand with your left hand. (Laughter: I hung up the other two songs. )
Serious betrayal/Ho Pacheco (Mexico)
I don't love my motherland.
Her abstract light
Cann't catch it
But I do (though it doesn't sound good)
animate
For her ten places,
Some people,
Ports, forests, fortresses, deserts,
An abandoned city, gray and deformed,
Several figures in her history,
peak
-There are three or four rivers.
I have seen another version of this poem, and after comparison, I prefer this version. I found this poet's poem when I searched this poem online just now, and I liked all the capitals I found. From this, I remembered the name of this Mexican poet: H. E. Pacheco.
Home in the rain /Eou Genio de andrade (Portuguese)
Rain, rain falls on the olive tree again.
I don't know why it rained again this afternoon
Now that my mother has left.
No longer go to the terrace to watch the rain.
Stop lifting your eyes from sewing.
Ask me: Did you hear that?
I heard you, mom. It is raining again.
Raindrops hit your face.
-seems to touch the poet's heartstrings. Oh, that's the child's deep memory of his mother drying cotton in the sky. We should all feel happy, because we are still a lovely child, with a home to go back to and a mother.
About our hometown Brandiana (Romania)
We talk about it
Our hometown.
I come from summer,
A fragile country,
Are there any fallen leaves
You can call it extinction,
The sky is full of stars, so heavy,
Sometimes it falls to the ground,
Come closer, and you will hear those stars.
Scratched by grass, laughing all the time,
Vast expanses of flowers
Like the sun.
Sting your dry eyes,
On every tree
There are countless round suns hanging.
My hometown
Nothing is lacking except death,
Too much happiness,
Makes you sleepy.