Who will believe my poems in the future,
If it is full of your highest virtue?
Although, God knows, this is just a graveyard.
Buried your life and half your true colors.
If I can write your beautiful eyes,
Count your beauty, the rhythm is fresh,
Future generations will say, "This poet lied:
Where will such a heavenly gesture fall on earth! "
So my poetry anthology was yellowed by years,
Will be despised, like a garrulous old man;
Your true face is wrongly accused of being a poet's madness,
There is also an exaggerated rhythm of an old song:
But if you had a living son,
You lived twice: in him, in the poem.
18
How can I compare you to summer?
You are not only cuter than it, but also gentler than it;
The strong wind humiliated the buds that might have been loved,
The summer lease is too short;
The eyes in the sky are sometimes too dazzling,
Its shining golden face is often covered up:
Destroyed by accidental or impermanent heaven,
No fragrance is not ultimately carved or destroyed.
But your long summer will never be carved,
I won't lose your bright red teeth,
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 forever and give you life.
Yijiu
Gluttony time, blunt lion's claws,
Ordering the earth to devour its beloved baby,
Get under the tiger's chin, pull out its teeth,
Burn the long-lived phoenix, destroy its species,
Let the season be sad or happy when you fly;
Moreover, fast time is wantonly destroyed.
The world and its easy-to-thank wheat straw;
Only this heinous crime I forbid you to commit:
Oh, don't carve years on my love's forehead,
Or scribble wrinkles with an old iron pen:
Don't dirty it in flight,
So that it can be a beautiful example for future generations.
But, crazy as it is, in the past, how hard you worked,
My love will last forever in my poems.
20
You have a woman's face, born.
Plastic, you, my beloved mistress and lover;
There is a woman's gentle heart, but there is no.
Repeatedly changeable, like a woman's false heart;
Her eyes are brighter than hers and less affected.
I hope to gild everything;
The incomparable beauty controls all the beauty,
Even men are dizzy and women are surprised.
The beginning is to shape you into a woman:
But when nature shaped you, I was fascinated.
I gave you something by mistake and peeled it off.
My rights-this thing means nothing to me.
But nature makes you happy for women,
Let me have it, they enjoy your love.