Akimatsu
keats
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.