I eat in sadness, I laugh in pain, and life and death make me miserable. My happiness is the cause of my sadness. Grasshoppers and crickets
John Keats
Poetry of the earth will never die;
When all the birds were stunned by the hot sun,
Hiding in a cool tree, a voice will run.
Between the hedges around the newly cut honey wine;
That's the grasshopper's-he's in the lead.
In the luxury of summer, he never did it.
With his joy; When you are tired of playing
He had a leisurely rest under some pleasant weeds.
The poetry of the earth never stops;
On a lonely winter night, when the frost
There was a silence, and screams came from the stove.
Crickets' songs are getting warmer and warmer,
It seems that a half-asleep person,
Grasshoppers are in some grassy hills.
The poems of the earth will never die: when all the birds are dazzled by the hot sun,
Hidden in the shady forest, there is a sound.
Floating on the hedge around the newly cut grass.
That's the music of Guoguo! It competes first.
Indulge in the luxury of midsummer, it never feels it.
Your own happiness fades away, and once you get tired of singing,
They perched comfortably on the pleasant grass.
The poetry of the earth never stops;
On a lonely winter night, when the frost condenses.
It's quiet, jumping back and forth on the fireplace.
Crickets' songs, in the rising heating,
In sleepiness, people feel the sound.
Like a grasshopper chirping on a grassy mountain.