My heart is aching and numb.
Torturing my senses is like drinking ecstasy and just swallowing opium. ..
The whole body sank into the forgotten river:
I am not jealous of your luck,
But your happiness makes me so happy-you, the light-winged tree god,
Rhyme beautifully
A forest with overlapping green shadows
Indulge in singing beautiful summer days.
Oh, I wish I could have a taste of wine!
The old wine in the cold storage cellar reminds me of the green land in the sun, dance, love songs and joy!
I hope to have a cup, full of the warmth of the south, full of bright red springs of inspiration, pearl-like foam shining on the edge of the cup, dyeing my lips purple;
I hope I can drink it all at once, die quietly and disappear with you in the dark forest.
Far away, far away, forget everything you didn't know in the forest, forget fatigue, anxiety and trouble, forget the world that people lament: paralyzed old people tremble with sadness, young people become pale, haggard and die young; Here, I am full of sadness when I think about it. Here, I am full of despair, the brilliance in my eyes is hard to maintain, and my new love will die in an instant.
Fly away! Fly away! I want to fly to your place. I don't ride the Dionysian car pulled by a leopard, but ride on the poet's invisible wings, although my mind is groggy and exhausted; I would have gone with you! The night was so gentle, and then she ascended the throne, surrounded by her brilliant stars. But it's not bright here.
There is only a glimmer of daylight. As the breeze passes through the dark green shade, the winding path of moss.
I can't see clearly what flowers are under my feet, and I don't know what fragrance is lingering on the branches. But in the dark, I can guess what kind of fragrance should be given to the fruit trees, jungles and green grass at this time: the white hawthorn, the roses in the leaves, the violets that fade easily among the green leaves, the flowers full of dew in early May, the musk roses in bud and the summer night buzzing with flying insects.
I listened in the dark and almost fell in love with silent death many times. I praised him frequently in my poems and begged him to bring my life into the atmosphere. How magnificent death has become now, may I die painlessly at midnight when you pour out such ecstasy!
At that time, you will still sing, and I will never hear your singing again. Only to the mud grass that buried me.
You won't die. Fairy Wu! The hungry generation can't make you suffer, the song I heard tonight.
Ancient emperors and subjects have heard that the same song may have touched Ruth's homesickness and made her stand in a foreign wheat field with tears in her skirt; Perhaps it often makes the window sash on Fairy Island open as if possessed, so that the lonely beauty-K-can see the turbulent sea.
Lonely! These two words are like bells, drive back to where I stand!
Oh, goodbye! Magic, charming little devil, I can't play your famous stunt anymore. Goodbye! Goodbye! Your sad song, flowing through the lawn, the stream and the hillside, is now deeply buried in the nearby mountains.
Is this an illusion or a lucid dream?
The sound disappeared-am I asleep or awake?
Ode to the ancient Greek urn
You are a virgin still intact and quiet, you are the adopted son of silence and time, and you are an idyllic historian. Competing to tell a flowery story is sweeter than a poem: is there an old legend that haunts your body with green leaves, telling about people or gods, and what kind of people and gods are Tambi Valley or Akkad?
What a passionate pursuit! What a shy girl!
What wonderful music! How fascinating!
Although the music you hear is good, the music you can't hear is more important; Blow, gentle bagpipes!
Not for the ears, but for the heart.
Playing silent music is sweeter; Under the tree, you won't interrupt your singing and the leaves won't fall; Passionate lover, you will never kiss,
Although I'm going to kiss-don't be sad. She won't get old. Although you didn't kiss, you will love forever. She will always be Shuai Shuai's happy and joyful forest! Never bid farewell to spring, your leaves will never fall; Ah, the happy piper, never tired, always plays a song that is always fresh: happy love! More and more happy love!
Always hot, waiting for lovers to taste; The heart is always pounding, and people are always young; This love is far more noble than the lust of the world and will not satisfy and grieve the soul. If you don't feel dizzy, your tongue won't get hot.
Who are these people who go to sacrifice? Ah, mysterious priest, you are howling in the sky with this calf and wearing a wreath. Which green altar is it?
From a small town near the river and the sea, or from a quiet cabin.
There are so many people here on this pious morning? Small town, your street will always be quiet, and no one will come back to tell you why it is so quiet.
oh The shape of Greece! Beautiful posture! Carved with trees and trampled grass, dotted with these men, women and children;
You, silent body, cold countryside! For example, Eternity. It tempts us to dream. When the years urge people and this generation declines, you will live forever; When future generations are sad, you are a friend of mankind. Tell them: "Beauty is true or false"-this is the truth that you know and the world should know.