The smell of flowers has disappeared, and so has the fragrance of flowers. It blows on me like your kiss; Just like the breath of your kiss to me; The color of this flower has faded, the color of this flower has faded, and it only shines for you! As clever as you used to be, only you! A shriveled, lifeless, empty body, a shrinking, dead, empty body, it lies on my abandoned chest, it lies on my abandoned chest, it mocks the warm heart, and mocks my still hot heart with cold and silent rest. I cry-my tears can't wake it up; I cry, tears can't wake it up; I sigh-it doesn't breathe to me anymore; I sigh, its breath will never; Its fate of silence without complaining, its fate of silence without complaining, is what I should have and deserve.
Ode to the West Wind
1 Wild autumn wind, you are the essence of autumn! Shelley's works didn't see you, and the dead leaves were swept away, like ghosts who fled without seeing the mage-they were yellow and black, or pale and crimson, which was really a big plague; You, you sent the flying seeds into the winter, and let them sleep in the dark underground, just like the bodies lying in their graves, until your sister Lan Chun blew the horn in the dreamland, called the sheep-like buds to suck the atmosphere, and filled Shan Ye with color and fragrance. Wild spirit, you are wandering, destroying and protecting. Oh, listen! You, the chaotic cloud is the messenger of rain and lightning. It is on your turbulent torrent that lightning is washed down like dead leaves on a tree, and it also falls straight down from the intricate branches of the sky and the sea: just like a furious Dionysus priestess raising her silver hair from the dark horizon to the sky, I saw similar hair in your turbulent blue sky, announcing the coming of a storm. You are its dying elegy, and the night of retreat is its grave-sweeping tomb, which is connected with the sky-all the power of the water vapor you gathered in the cage, black rain, electric fire and hail will also fall from this thick cloud. Oh, listen! You, lying beside the pumice island in Baya Bay, listening to the hustle and bustle of its rippling blue waves in the Mediterranean Sea, are gradually urged to sleep in its summer days, only watching the ancient palace castle tremble slightly under the huge waves-the walls are covered with youthful moss and wild flowers. Just thinking about that fragrance will make your heart drunk! You woke it up again. In order to open the way for you, the flat Atlantic Ocean is covered with deep trenches. In its depths, the flowers, trees and muddy forests with sap at the bottom of the water can immediately recognize your call, and suddenly they begin to shrink and wither because of fright, and even turn gray in color. Oh, listen! If I were a dead leaf you raised; If I were a cloud, I would fly with you; If I breathe under your strength and share your powerful impulse, then I will be free, oh! Second only to the unruly you; If I were still a child, I could still be your loyal partner when you invited me to travel in the sky-because at that time, running faster than you might not be a dream; Then I wouldn't be so cruel and I wouldn't have to beg you like this. Please lift me up, oh, just imagine me as a dead leaf, a cloud or a wave! I, falling on the thorns of life, dripping with blood! I am too much like you: stubborn, agile and arrogant, but the burden of years has bound me and crushed me. Let me be your harp like a forest, but my leaves will wither like forest leaves! These two beautiful and sad late autumn sounds will be covered by your roaring symphony. I wish I had your strong spirit! I hope that you are me! Please sweep my dead thoughts out of the universe, just like you sweep the fallen leaves to promote new life! And with the spell of my poem, my words spread all over the world, just like sparks blown out of the never-ending furnace! May you blow the prophetic horn that awakens the world through my mouth! Wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind? This poem was conceived in a forest on the Arno River near Florence, and was basically written there. On that day, the wind suddenly blew, warm and refreshing, and collected all the water vapor that would pour into autumn rain. As I expected, at sunset, the storm began. At first, it was hail, accompanied by huge thunder and lightning peculiar to the southern Alps. -Author's original note: This poem consists of five sonnets, but the stanzas and rhymes of these sonnets are influenced by an Italian style called tercarima. (2) Baya Bay was named after Baya City, a hot spring resort in ancient Rome, which is now Pozzoli Bay (located in the northwest of Naples Bay). Pumice is a volcanic rock, because Naples is a volcanic area. (3) according to Shelley's original note, "this phenomenon is well known to naturalists. Like plants on land, the seasonal changes of plants under rivers and oceans have the same reaction, so the wind that announced this change also has an impact on it. Attachment: Ah, the wild west wind, you, the breath of autumn, you, the dead leaves are driven away from your invisible face, like ghosts fleeing from a wizard, yellow, black, pale, fanatical red, plague-ridden people: Ah, you, drive winged seeds to their dark winter beds, where they lie cold and low, each like a grave. Destroyer and protector; Listen, oh, listen! On your stream, in the turmoil of the steep sky, loose clouds fall like fallen leaves on the earth, swaying from the tangled branches of heaven and ocean, and angels of rain and lightning are scattered on your blue sea. Surging, like the hair raised on the head of a fierce priestess, even from the hazy edge of the horizon to the height of the zenith, like the hair of the coming storm. You elegy of the dying year, this last night will be the dome of a huge grave. With all the power of your gathered steam, from its solid air, black rain, fire and hail will erupt: Oh, listen! Ah, you woke up the blue Mediterranean from his summer dream. He was lying there, hypnotized by the vortex of the crystal stream. In his sleep, he saw the ancient palaces and towers trembling in the rough day. They were all covered with sky-blue moss and so sweet flowers. The vague feeling described them! Your road, the flat waves of the Atlantic Ocean split itself into cracks, and far below, sea flowers and muddy Woods, wearing away the dead leaves of the ocean, recognized your voice and suddenly turned gray, trembling and desperate with fear: Oh, listen! If I am a dead leaf, you can bear it; If I were a cloud, I would fly with you; A wave that breathes under your strength, the impulse to share your strength, is just not as free as you, ah, uncontrollable! If I can be your partner roaming in heaven as I was a teenager, then it seems only an illusion to surpass your sliding speed; I would never have prayed so hard with you when I needed it most. Oh, lift me up like waves, leaves and clouds! I fell on the thorns of life! I am bleeding! The heavy shackles of time bind a person like you: unruly, agile and proud. Let me be your harp, just like the forest: what if my leaves fall like its own! The noise of your powerful harmony will bring sadness and sweetness from the deep autumn tone. Be you, fierce soul, my soul! Be me, impulsive person! Drive my dead thoughts into the universe, just like withered leaves, to accelerate rebirth! Through the spell of this poem, spread my words around the world like ashes and sparks that never go out! Blow the horn of prophecy to the awakening earth through my lips! Wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
well-known saying
Shallow water is noisy and deep water is silent. Hunger and love rule the world. The past belongs to death, and the future belongs to oneself. The more you read, the more empty you feel. Smile is really a symbol of kindness, a source of happiness and a medium to get close to others. With laughter, human feelings communicate. Kissing is when souls meet on the lips of lovers. ) Lips are the place where two lovers and two souls meet. Love is not a slave to time. Love is like a light. If you shine on two people at the same time, the light will not weaken. Hope makes people young, because hope and youth are brothers. The most unfortunate people are trained as poets by suffering, and they teach others what they have learned from suffering through poetry. Poets of all ages are making contributions to an ever-developing "great poem". A great poem, like a fountain, always spouts water of wisdom and joy. Evil virtues-disharmony, war, suffering; Virtue-peace, happiness and harmony. If a person has no real morality, he can't have real wisdom. Being smart and being smart are two completely different things. Smart people are people who carefully consider their own interests; A wise man is a man who carefully considers the interests of others. The biggest secret of morality is love; In other words, it is the beauty that transcends our own nature and dissolves in other people's thoughts, behaviors or personalities. Let the horn of prophecy ring! Oh, west wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
[Edit this paragraph] Summary
The ultimate goal of Shelley's romantic ideal is to create a new world where everyone enjoys freedom and happiness. He imagined himself as an angel flying day and night, a cloud floating in the blue sky, a lark soaring in space, and even a westerly wind in late autumn. He is the disseminator, eulogist and summoner of the new world ideal. He painted a beautiful picture for this new world with beautiful language and rich imagination, and boldly predicted: "Winter has come, can spring be far behind?" Therefore, Engels praised learning as a "genius prophet".