English poem about youth 1 Youth flies.
Richard Henry stoddard
All our losses will be compensated.
Everything we have lost can be compensated,
All our pains can be comforted;
All our pains can be comforted;
But when the youth of dreams dies,
But once the dreamy youth disappears,
It took something from our hearts,
It took away the beautiful things in our hearts,
It will never come again.
Never come back.
We are stronger and better,
We become stronger and more perfect,
Under manhood? Stricter rule;
Driven by severe adult life;
We still feel something sweet.
But still feel the sweet feeling,
Follow youth, with fast steps,
As youth flies,
Never come again.
Never come back.
Some beautiful things have disappeared,
Beauty is gone,
We sigh in vain;
We sigh for this in vain;
We can see it everywhere,
Although between heaven and earth,
On earth, in the air,
We can see the charm of youth everywhere,
But it will never come again!
But it will never come back!
There are English poems about youth, 2 youth.
youth
Samuel ullmann wrote it.
Youth is not a period of life; It is a state of mind;
It's not about rosy cheeks,
Red lips and soft knees;
It's a matter of will,
The quality of imagination,
Emotional vitality;
This is the freshness of the deep spring of life.
Youth is not a period of time, but a state of mind;
Youth is not a peach face, red lips and soft knees.
But a strong will,
Great imagination,
Passionate feelings;
Youth is the deep spring of life.
Youth means temperament advantage.
Courage triumphs over timidity,
The desire for adventure is better than the love of ease.
This is more common in a 60-year-old man than in a 20-year-old boy.
No one grows old just because of age.
We grow old by giving up our ideals.
Youth pervades Changhong,
Courage triumphs over timidity,
Aggression overwhelmed Gouan.
Such a spirit,
Born twenty years later,
Men in their sixties are more common.
Grow old, not grow old,
Abandon your ideals and you will fall into old age.
Years may wrinkle the skin,
But giving up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Worry, fear, lack of confidence
Distort the mind and turn the soul into ashes.
Years are long, and decline only reaches the skin;
Enthusiasm gives up, decadence gives up the soul.
Worry, fear, loss of confidence,
It will distort the mind and turn the spirit into dust.
Whether it is 60 or 16,
Everyone has the temptation of curiosity,
A childlike appetite for what will happen next.
And the fun of life games.
In your heart and mine.
There is a radio station:
As long as it receives the following message
Beauty, hope, happiness, courage and strength
From man and from infinity,
You are still young.
No matter how old you are, or how old you are,
You have the joy of life in your heart,
The lure of miracles is as childish as a child.
Everyone has an antenna in his heart.
As long as you accept the beauty from heaven and earth,
Signals of hope, happiness, courage and strength,
You will always be young and your youth will last forever.
When the antenna falls down,
Your spirit is covered with cynical ice and snow.
The ice of pessimism,
Then you get old, even at the age of 20,
But as long as you put up the antenna,
Seize the wave of optimism,
There is hope that you will die young at the age of 80.
When the antenna goes down, your spirit is covered with ice and snow,
Cynical, self-destructive,
Even at the age of twenty, I am old;
However, as long as the antenna is erected, the optimistic signal is captured,
You can expect to die young at 80.
There is an English poem about youth, Ode to Destiny, which has a Chinese translation:
What kind of death knell is this for those who die like animals?
Only the great anger of guns.
Only the rattle of a stuttering rifle.
Can say their hasty prayers.
What kind of death knell has sounded for those who died tragically?
Only the roar of a creepy spear.
Only Parker kept stuttering.
You can rush out of their prayers before they die
Did not laugh at them; No prayers, no bells,
There was no sound of mourning except the choir.
The piercing and crazy cannonball choir;
The horn calling them came from the sad county.
There are no false hymns, no prayers and church bells.
There is no lamentation, and there is no funeral chorus.
Crying shells, sharp frantically chorus * * *.
In the sad bunker, the horn sounded asking them to charge and retreat.
What candles are you holding to speed them up?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes.
Will shine with the sacred light of farewell.
What kind of candlelight might be used to urge them to leave for war?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes.
A farewell shining with divine brilliance.
The girl's pale eyebrows will be their coffin cover;
Their flowers are the tenderness of patient hearts,
Draw down the curtains every slow evening.
The girls' pale faces will be their white coffins.
The gentleness and patience of the family will be their beautiful funeral.
The front line is dying day by day, one after another. The rear area is dying day by day, and the curtain is hanging.