There are two foreign poems when I am old.

When you are old-William Butler Yeats When you are old, gray-haired, sleepy and dozing by the fire, please take down this book and read it slowly, dreaming of the gentle eyes of your eyes and their deep shadows; How many people love your happy and elegant moments, love your beauty with hypocrisy or sincerity, but only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the sadness on your aging face; Bend down and whisper a little sadly by the burning fireplace: "How did love escape?" He strolled up the mountains overhead and hid his face among the stars. My hair is gray and sleepy, and sitting by the fire is very tired. Take this poem for example. Read carefully, dream back to soft light, and the past is deep and beautiful. I appreciate your beautiful image, many of which, really or not, have come and gone. The only person who loves your Eucharist, despite the wind and frost, my love is not easy The fire is burning, and you lean over the stove and meditate in a low voice. Love died young. When you are old, when you are old, when you are sleepy, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming that your eyes look soft and the reflection in your eyes is deep; How many people love your charming time, your beauty comes from hypocrisy or truth, but only one person loves the sincerity of your soul and the bitter wind and frost on your declining face; Bend down and whisper sadly by the red fireplace, how Cupid escaped, wandering in the mountains overhead, hiding his face among the stars. When you are old, white-haired, sleepy and dozing by the fire, please take this poem down and read it slowly, recalling the tenderness of your past eyes and their heavy shadows; How many people love the beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity of adore you when you are young and happy? Only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face. He hung his head and whispered sadly about the disappearance of love by the red fire. On the mountain overhead, he walked slowly, hiding his face among a group of stars. When China died, you were gray-haired and sleepy, sitting by the fire and taking a nap slowly. Please take down my poetry collection and read it slowly. Like a dream, you will revisit the collection. Your eyes used to be so affectionate and gentle. How many people have loved your radiant charm, your beautiful face, or sincerity, or acting skills, but only one person! He loves your holy and devout heart! When you wash away the lead and grieve for the beauty, she still loves you deeply! The flame in the furnace is warm and bright, and you gently lower your head, whispering for the withered and extinguished love with a touch of sadness. At this time, he is wandering alone in Qianshan, hiding his face behind the stars and staring at you. When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming of the soft light and deep shadow in your eyes; How many people love your style and your beauty? Whether it is true or not, only one person loves your pilgrim's heart and the sadness contained in your changing face. He leaned over the red fence again, with a little sadness, whispering about how love escaped, wandering in the mountains overhead, hiding his face in the stars. When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy, take a nap by the fire, take down this book and read it slowly, dreaming of the tenderness your eyes once had and their deep shadows; How many people love your happy and beautiful time, your beauty, true or false love, but one person loves your pilgrim soul and the sadness on your aging face; He leaned over the burning stove and muttered sadly, how love left, wandering alone in the mountains overhead and burying his face in a group of stars. When you are old, gray-haired, sleepy, and sleepy by the fire, take this book down, read it slowly, and dream back to the soft light and deep wave shadow you once had in your eyes; How many people fall in love with your joyful and elegant moment, your beauty is true or false love, and one person loves your soul facing the mountains and your changing face. With a little sadness, he leaned over the glittering iron railing. How did love escape? He wandered overhead and hid his face in a group of stars. When you are old, white-haired, sleepy and dozing in front of the stove, please take this poem down and recite it slowly, dreaming of the soft light and faint shadow of your eyes; How many people have loved your beauty, your joyful and charming youth, hypocrisy or true feelings, but only one person loves your pilgrim soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face; When you lean over, next to the burning grate, you will whisper with a touch of sadness: the lost love has now reached the top of the mountain, and your face is buried in the dense stars. When you are old, gray-haired and sleepy, sitting by the fire, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming of the soft look and deep shadow in your eyes. How many people have loved the shadow of your youth, your beauty, hypocrisy or truth, but one person loves your pilgrim's heart and the traces of years on your sad face. By the fireplace, you bent down and whispered with shallow sadness, how love passed away, how to set foot on the top of the mountain, and how to hide your face among the stars. Old, gray temples, sleepy, sitting by the fire is also tired. Take this book down and read it slowly, recalling the eyes of the year, with soft eyes and profound reflection. How many people have seen you worship your youthful and charming figure out of hypocrisy or true love for your beauty, but only one person loves your pilgrim's heart and your aging face. You bent down, in the hot hearth, in the shallow sadness, thinking about how love passed away, walked to the top of the mountain alone, and hid her face among the stars. 10 When you are old, gray-haired, sleepy and tired of sitting by the fire, take this book down and read it slowly, dreaming of the soft look and deep shadow in your eyes. How many people have loved your youthful shadow and your beauty? Whether it is hypocritical or true, only one person loves your pilgrim's heart and the traces of years on your sad face. At the edge of the grate, you bent down and whispered with shallow sadness, how love passed away, how to set foot on the top of the mountain, and how to hide your face in the stars. Translation 1 1 anonymous translation When you are old, your head is white, you are sleepy, and you take a nap by the fire; Please remember a poem. Reminiscent, you once had a pair of gentle eyes, and in the corner of your eye, several shadows were thick and weak; How many people really loved adore you when she was young and beautiful, but she was seduced by your beauty. There is only one person who loves your soul and your holiness from the bottom of his heart, and his aging face has painful wrinkles. By the red-hot stove, look back quietly and tell sadly how love slipped away, how it ran to the mountain above, and then hide its face in the stars. 12 love loss-youth is gone, clouds are reduced to ashes, and drowsiness is coming. My love, please take this book and read it before the fire goes out. Please open this chapter slowly and dream back to the past-expectation. Really, that person once admired your beauty and was burned by your beauty; The Weiss were confused by another you, who covered your saint's face with a tragic burnt offering! My love, the flame seedling rises, but sorrow cannot be seen. Keep your head down and whisper that you know: true love never dies, so I sent your stars to play on the slightly tilted Yushan Mountain. Personally, I prefer what Joe said in the little woman. . .