The tree is in front of my window.
The tree in front of my window, window tree,
When night falls, my belt is put down;
But never pull down the curtains.
Between you and me.
A vague dream-head raised from the ground,
Followed by the cloud,
Not all your light tongues speak loudly.
Could be profound.
But tree, I saw you tossing and turning,
If you had seen me while I was sleeping,
When I was taken away and cleaned, you had seen me.
Almost lost it.
She put our heads together that day,
Fate has her own imagination,
Your brain is so focused on the outside,
My heart, the weather.
The tree is in my window, the tree is in my window,
When night falls, I put down the casement;
But I never pulled down the curtains.
Between you and me.
Vague dreams first rise to the ground,
Almost everything goes to the clouds,
You didn't say it all.
Can show profundity.
But tree, I saw you swing,
If you've ever seen me sleep,
Then you also saw my pain.
Everything is lost and scattered.
Fate used her imagination that day,
Brainstorm ideas,
Your head is too worried about the climate outside,
Mine has something to do with indoor heating and cooling.
A classic English poem by Robert Ross: Standing on horseback by the Woods on a snowy night.
I think I know whose forest this is,
Although his house is in the village.
He won't see me parked here,
Watching his Woods covered with snow.
My pony must think it's strange,
Stop when there is no farmhouse nearby,
Between the Woods and the ice lake,
The darkest night of the year.
He rang his harness bell,
Ask if there is any mistake.
The only other sound is the sweeping sound,
The breeze is gentle and the snow is falling.
The forest is lovely, dark and deep.
But I have to keep my promise,
I still have a long way to go before I fall asleep,
I still have a long way to go before I fall asleep.
I think I know the owner of this forest,
But his house is in the village.
He won't see me parked here,
Look at his snow-covered Woods.
My pony must think it is wild. Don is weird,
Stop, there is no one near the farmhouse.
In the Woods and frozen lakes,
On the darkest night of the year.
It shook the bell around its neck,
Ask if there are any mistakes.
The only sound that flies,
It is the breeze that blows up the soft snowflakes.
The forest is lovely, although it is dark and far away.
But I've decided to keep my promise,
I have a lot to catch up on before I go to bed.