The furthest distance in the world/is not the distance between life and death/but I stand in front of you/you don't know I love you//The furthest distance in the world/It's not that I stand in front of you/you don't know I love you/but that I'm crazy about it/It's that I can't say I love you//The furthest distance in the world/It's not that I can't say I love you/But that I miss you deeply/It's that I can only bury my heart//The world. The furthest distance in the world/not loving each other/but pretending not to care//The farthest distance in the world/Not the distance between trees/But the branches growing from the same root/But unable to depend on each other in the wind//The farthest distance in the world/Not the branches unable to depend on each other/But the stars look at each other/But there is no intersecting trajectory/The farthest distance in the world. It's not the trajectory between stars/it's the distance between fish and birds/the farthest distance in the world/it's not the distance between stars/it's the distance between fish and birds/one is in the sky, and the other is deep under the sea.
Ye Zhi (Ireland) When you are old.
When you are old, white-haired and sleepy,/take a nap by the fire, please write down this poem,/read it slowly, and recall the tenderness of your eyes in the past,/recall their heavy shadows in the past; /How many people love your youth,/worship your beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity,/Only one person loves your pilgrim's soul,/loves the painful wrinkles on your aging face; /I hung my head by the fiery fire,/I whispered sadly about the passing of love,/I walked slowly on the mountain overhead,/I hid my face among a group of stars.
I want to be Rapunzel petofi.
I would like to be a torrent and a mountain stream flowing on the stone road/as long as my lover is a small fish swimming happily in my waves/I would like to be a barren forest on both sides of the strait and face a strong wind, I would like to fight bravely as long as my lover is a bird chirping among my dense branches/I would like to be a ruin on a steep cliff. This silent destruction doesn't make me feel depressed/as long as my lover is the green ivy climbing my desolate forehead/I would like to be a thatched cottage on a thatched roof at the bottom of a deep valley/as long as my lover is a lovely flame shining happily in my stove/I would like to be a broken gray flag floating lazily in the vast air/as long as my lover is a coral sunset glow that shines bright next to my pale face,
Goethe (Germany)
The teenager saw a little rose on the wild rose/so delicate/the teenager hurried forward and looked very happy/the little rose on the wild rose/the teenager said I would pick the little rose on your wild rose/that I would stab you/that you would never forget that I didn't want to be picked by you/the little rose on the wild rose/that the savage teenager went to pick the little rose/rose on her wild rose and stabbed him/tore it in self-defense.
Please say I love you again, Mrs Browning (UK).
Please tell me again that I love you/even if it is repeated over and over again/you will think of it as a cuckoo's song/remember that it is in the mountains and green forests, in the valleys and fields/if it lacks cuckoo's syllables, even if it is fresh in spring/dressed in green, it will not be perfect/it is so dark around/I can only hear frightened voices in my ears/it is in that painful anxiety/I cry and say that I love you again/who will think?
Haitao quasimodo (Italian)
How many nights have I heard the gentle waves of the sea beating against the soft beach/expressing a warm soft language/as if a kind voice came from the past years/passed through my memory and sent out lingering echoes/as if seagulls were crying for a long time/perhaps birds flew to the plain to welcome the charming spring scenery//You and I were there for an unforgettable year/accompanied by the whispers of the waves.
Loreleheine (Germany)
I don't know why I'm so sad/An ancient myth haunts me/The Rhine River flows quietly in the twilight, the breeze is cool/The mountain peaks sparkle in the evening sunset/A stunning girl magically sits on the top of the mountain/She combs her hair with golden jewelry and sends out a song/The tune is very beautiful and moving/The hook of the boatman on the boat has caused countless sorrows/He didn't look at the rocks in front of him, he just looked up/I think both the boat and the boatman finally died in the waves/here.
Byron, Maiden of Athens (England)
Maiden of Athens, give me back my heart before we leave/or keep it, and now it has been separated from me, and take the rest away/Please listen to my farewell oath, you are my life, I love you/I want to snuggle up to that loose curly hair and chase every Aegean wind/I want to snuggle up to those eyelash eyes and kiss the pink on your cheek/I want to snuggle up to those deer eyes and swear that you are my life. I love you/and my long-awaited red lips and tight waist/I want to snuggle up in those promised flowers, which is better than all words/a string of joys and sorrows of love. I want to say that you are my life. I love you/the girl in Athens. Think of me when I am lonely/Although I ran to Istanbul, Athens caught my heart/Can I not love you?
Hut Andersen (Denmark)
There is a lonely hut on the coast washed by the waves/there is no tree/only the sky and the sea, only the cliffs/there is the greatest happiness here because there are lovers living together/there are no treasures of gold and silver in the hut, but there are a pair of dear people/staring at each other all the time/this hut is small and shabby, how lonely it is to stand on the shore/but there is the greatest happiness because there are lovers.