Pushkin (Russian 1799--1837)
Frost and sunshine, what a wonderful day!
Flattering friend, but you are sleeping peacefully.
It's time, beauty, to wake up!
Quickly open the sleeping eyes that have been closed with comfort.
Please come forth, as the Morning Star of the North,
to meet the Goddess of the Northern Sunset!
Last night, you remember, the wind and snow were swirling,
and the sinister sky was shrouded in a layer of gloom.
The moon, yellowing behind the dark clouds,
was like a pale speck in the night sky.
And you sit bored--
But now ...... look out the window:
Under the blue sky, like a velvet carpet
Splendidly spread out over the wilderness.
A vast blanket of white snow glistened with sunlight,
only the transparent woods glowed darkly.
And the fir-tree boughs were green through the white frost
Green: the frozen creek was crystal bright.
The whole apartment was illuminated
by the light of amber. Within the freshly-born fire
there was a pleasant crackling sound.
It was a beautiful time to lie in bed and think.
However, shouldn't you call for the brown horse to be put on the sleigh early!
My dear friend, the journey is a light one
Let us glide through the early morning snow.
Let the fiery horses gallop,
Let us visit that open field.
The woods that not so long ago were luxuriant,
The banks of the river, how dear to me.
1829
Translated by Zha Liang Zheng
The Old Man Cao Shuhou Appreciation Pushkin was a great Russian poet in the 19th century, whose poems are diverse in form, rich in rhyme, and characterized by a beautiful, delicate, light, and lucid style.
Narcissus
Wordsworth (Eng. 1770--1850)
I roam alone! Like a cloud over the valley,
I look up and see a clump of
golden daffodils, colorful and dense;
By the lake's shore, in the shade,
Swinging in the wind, dancing in style.
The daffodils are densely packed with stars
flashing up and down the Milky Way,
this piece of daffodil, along the bay of the lake
in an endless row;
a glimpse of thousands of thousands of daffodils
shaking their corollas, dancing lightly.
The ripples of the lake also danced in the wind,
and the joy of the daffodils was better than the ripples;
with such delightful companions,
how could the poet not be pleased!
I gazed long, but never thought
What treasures this beauty gave me.
From then on, whenever I was lying on my couch,
or depressed, or in a state of uncertainty,
Narcissus flashed in my mind's eye -
that was the paradise of my solitude;
my heart was overflowing with joy,
and Narcissus danced with me. I will dance with the daffodils.
(Translated by Yang Deyu)
The Elderly Cao Shuhou Appreciation: Wordsworth is the main representative of the British "Lakeside School" of Romantic Poetry. His poems are mellow and simple. The poem "Narcissus" is simple and easy to understand, but it is full of poetic feelings.
(Tuesday, February 6, 2001)
The Bird cherry tree
Yesenin (Sue 1895--1925)
The rich Bird cherry tree,
Opening with the spring,
Golden branches,
Growing like curls. curls grow.
The honey-sweet dew,
Flows down the bark;
Leaves traces of pungent green,
Shining in silver.
Satin spikes of flowers
Glowing under the dewdrops,
Like radiant earrings,
Worn in the ears of a beautiful girl.
Where the snow is melting,
On the grass near the roots of the trees,
A silvery stream,
Flows merrily along.
The Bird cherry tree stretched out its branches,
and gave off a charming fragrance,
and golden green traces,
reflected the sun's rays.
The brook raises waves of broken jade,
Splashes on the branches of the thick plum tree,
And plays the strings under the crags,
And sings fondly for her.
1915
(Translated by Liu Zhanqiu and Ru Xiangxue)
The Elder Cao Shuhou Appreciation : He was a famous Soviet Russian poet. His poems are mainly based on the natural scenery of the countryside and have a strong influence.
The Tree at the Window
Frost (1874-1963)
The tree at my window, the tree at my window,
I close the window at nightfall;
But never draw the curtains,
Lest you and I be cut off.
You are the shadow of a hazy dream rising from the earth,
You flit about like a floating cloud,
Not everything your light leafy tongue proclaims in a loud voice,
Not everything is deep.
But tree, I have seen the winds shake you.
If you had spied me sleeping in this house,
you would have seen me violently stirred,
almost swept away by the storm.
That day fate, in its childish play,
Brought us two together:
You by the outer weather,
And I by the storm within.
(Translated by Shun Zixin)
The Old Man Cao Shuhou Appreciation: Robert Frost, one of the most important American writers of the 20th century. Robert Frost is one of the most famous American poets of the 20th century. His poems are mainly about ranching and rural things, and his language is clear, simple, delicate and subtle. This poem is about the tree by the window, and the theme falls on the inner turmoil.
(Tuesday, February 20, 2001 )
The Wise Star
HEINE (De 1797--1856)
Flowers are apt to touch men's feet,
Most of them are trampled;
Whether it be shy or bold,
people always trample it when they walk by.
Pearls are hidden in the treasure chests of the sea,
but they are also found,
drilled holes are made for them, and they are fastened,
firmly to the silken cords.
The stars are wise, and they have reason
To keep far from our world;
The stars hang above the canopy,
Like the lamp of the world, safe for ever.
(Translated by Qian Chunqi)
Elder Cao Shuhou Appreciation Heine's poem is especially interesting: nature has been destroyed so much by human beings that even the grass and the pearls are no longer safe, and only the stars hang high above the canopy, and human beings can't do anything about destroying it even if they want to. The poem is written in a very humorous way, and is a warning to mankind for destroying nature. The theme of this poem is not directly stated in the poem, leaving the reader to experience it for themselves. Poems like this one make the reader feel as if they are making their own discoveries and feel especially poetic.
(Tuesday, February 20, 2001 )
The Wise Star
HEINE (DE 1797--1856)
Flowers are apt to touch men's feet,
Most of them are trodden down;
Whether it be shy or bold,
people always trample it when they walk by.
Pearls are hidden in the treasure chests of the sea,
but they are also found,
drilled holes are made for them, and they are fastened,
firmly to the silken cords.
The stars are wise, and they have reason
To keep far from our world;
The stars hang above the canopy,
Like the lamp of the world, safe for ever.
(Translated by Qian Chunqi)
Elder Cao Shuhou Appreciation Heine's poem is especially interesting: nature has been destroyed so much by human beings that even the grass and the pearls are no longer safe, and only the stars hang high above the canopy, and human beings can't do anything about destroying it even if they want to. The poem is written in a very humorous way, and is a warning to mankind for destroying nature. The theme of this poem is not directly stated in the poem, leaving the reader to experience it for themselves. Poems like this one make the reader feel as if they are making their own discoveries, which makes them feel especially poetic.
Forest
Wright (Australia 1915-)
When I first met this forest,
I was amazed by its flowers.
Their different shapes and faces,
changing with the seasons.
White violets set in purple,
tiny sprigs of wild ginger,
small, solitary orchids on the ground,
kept me mesmerized throughout the day.
And the thick fuchsia lilies,
The bright red petals above the phoenix tree,
And where the creek runs shallow,
The turquoise canopy of the Kongjewoy.
When I first knew this forest,
there were times to spend.
And the harvest that time brings anew,
there will never be an end to it.
Now all those vines and flowers of its,
are named and known,
like wishes long since fulfilled,
the magical joys of the beginning are gone.
But I seek further,
Besides these flowers I have gathered,
There is yet to be named and known,
The one flower that never tones ----
That produces the truth of all flowers.
(Translated by Zou Jiang)
The Elderly Cao Shuhou Appreciation The focus of the whole poem is in the last stanza, in which the poet has to search further for the reality that produces all flowers. What is the "truth of all flowers"? The poet does not say so, which gives the reader room to analyze and imagine--help the poet to imagine. The poet's description of the forest also achieves a certain level of art, so that the reader has a sense of beauty of the forest, and thus like the poem.
For Ionce
Shelley
You are lovely, infant, I love you so!
Your dimpled cheeks, your blue eyes,
Your kindly, soft, touching body,
To make a heart full of hate to love;
Sometimes, when you are going to sleep, you fall asleep at once, and your mother
Stoops down and clasps you to her waking heart, and all the stirring of your silent eyes
It is a great joy for me, and I love you so.
is sent to thee her joyous affection;
sometimes, when she held thee to her white breast,
I gazed fondly on thy face, and her countenance
was hidden in thine. ----At such times,
thee were lovelier, fair and delicate bud;
and the shadow of thy mother's beauty lent itself to thy gentle demeanor
after it was fully presented. p>
When fully presented, you are most most lovely!
Late Autumn Wanderings
Frost (1874-1963)
When I walk through the harvested fields,
I see no crop, it is empty,
It lies quiet as a dewy cottage, and the road to the garden is deserted.
When I walk through the harvested fields,
I see no crop, it is empty.
As I followed the path into the garden,
I heard among the broken tussocks of the withered grass
a mournful chirping of birds,
more stirring than any dirge.
There was a bare tree by the garden wall,
and the dying leaves had long since yellowed,
and it must have been disturbed by my thoughts,
and gently drifted down with a scuffling sound.
I did not go very far in the garden,
I picked a bunch of pale blue aster inside the broken leaves,
and rededicated it to you.
(Translated by Gu Zixin)
The Old Man Cao Shuhou Appreciation Frost is a famous American poet in the twentieth century. This poem is about the solemnity of autumn, when there is no life left, the poet sees a bunch of light blue aster, and then he hastens to pick it up and dedicate it to the one who he wants to dedicate it to. Here, the poet celebrates life and light.
The Seasons of Man
Keats (Eng. 1795-1821)
There are four seasons in the year, and four seasons in the human mind:
There are spring, summer, autumn, and winter:
He has a vigorous spring, and lets his naive fancies
grab all the good things in the world in their hands;
and in the summer he loves the first spring of life, and the first spring of his life, and the first spring of his life, and the first spring of his life. to reminisce over the sweet thoughts of those early spring
years,
dwelling in them, and such dreams brought him close
to the kingdom of heaven; and his soul had quiet coves in the fall
when he gathered his wings
up, and was so contented, so at ease,
drunken with his eyes, that he let the beautiful sights
Flow through like a river at the door, and pay no attention to it;
He has winters, too, and is pale, and changes his countenance;
Or else he transcends the nature of man.
(Translated by Tu Shi)
The Old Man Cao Shuhou Appreciation Keats is a famous English romantic poet, this poem is a sonnet. In this poem, he compares the life of a man with the seasons of the year, and romantically explains the philosophy of a man's life: when he is young, he is vigorous, energetic, and has naive fantasies; when he is in the prime of life, his career is smooth, and his dreams are close to his ideals; when he is in the middle age, he wants to rest, and gathers his wings together; in the old age, the law of nature is to die of old age. Keats' philosophies on the life of a man are his thoughts and experiences, which are 19th century concepts. To the current 21st century, we have to pay attention to two points: First, to the middle age can not want to rest, the middle age is the time of the officer, it is the time to realize the ideal; Second, young, can not just naive fantasy, but also foot in the country, the community, and efforts to do in order to be successful.
The Day in the Water
Hans Carrosa (Eng. 1795-1821)
There is a dark pond in the pasture,
only a small alder casts its shade on the bank;
I am in my childhood days.
It was a sultry spring day, and the grass was yellow and wild
Open-eyed dragonflies nibbled at the blades of grass,
and I liked to lie down and lean over the bottom of the pond to take a look.
The pond is as deep as the sky.
Clouds float across the watery sky, gray, carved like oak blades,
one edge glowing blue!
The beautiful sun often emerges from the bottom of the pond,
not blinding, looking almost like a gentle
cluster of moons.
I suddenly thought, with green alder strips
Smash the sky in the water,----
Big, white sun burst out in all directions,
Splash countless bright silver spots,
Splash straight to the shore.
I was so frightened that my heart pounded; those dots,
countless bright silver dots, bobbed upward,
the higher they went, the weaker the force,
and finally changed into a big sun again.
(Translated by Houren Zhang)
The Unchosen Path
Robert Frost
The yellow woods divided into two paths
It was a pity I couldn't wade through them at the same time
I stood there for a long time at that intersection
I looked toward one path
until it disappeared into the depths of the jungle
The path that had been chosen for me was the one I had to walk through, but it was not the one I had to walk through, because it was not the one I had to walk through. p>until it disappeared into the depths of the jungle.
But I chose the other path,
which was grassy and silent,
and more inviting and beautiful;
though on both paths
there were few travelers' footprints;
though the leaves were falling that morning,
and both paths were untainted by footprints.
Heh, leaving a path to be seen again another day!
But I know the path is endless,
and I'm afraid I won't be able to return.
Maybe many years from now, somewhere,
I will look back with a soft sigh:
There were two paths through the woods,
and I chose the one less traveled by,
and thus determined the path of my life.
(Translated by Gu Zixin)
The Clear Stream
Juan Ramón Jiménez (Spain 1981-1958)
The clear stream is serene and charming; the canyon is quiet and quiet, and the scenery on both sides of the river is beautiful,
white is the poplar, and green is the willow.
---- canyon is like an illusion,
and the heart is beating,
and the wonderful song is heard in the dream,
and the flute is accompanied by the song. ----
The stream is charming: the willow branches
seem to be sleepy,
hanging upside down on the calm surface of the stream,
kissing the clear water.
The sky is quiet and clear,
The sky is low and floating,
The mist is as silver as a ball,
Whisking the waves on the water and the trees on the shore.
---- my heart dreamed of the
beautiful banks of the stream, the quiet canyon,
all the way to the quiet shallows,
prepared to board the light boat to the distant journey.
But just as I set foot on the mountain path,
It was impossible to stop the hot tears of longing from flowing:
Though I did not know who was the singer.
(Wang Guorong)
The old man Cao Shuhou appreciated that "Clear Stream" is a poem with scenery and emotion, and the emotion is to stay in love with the beautiful hometown that will be left.
Music
Juan Ramón Jiménez (Spain 1981--1958)
There are quiet nights,
O pleasant music, you are a clear stream.
Cool and pleasant ----- as if that night fragrance,
Bloomed in an unfathomable vase ----- stars filled the sky.
The wind fled into its cave,
The terror returned to the cottage where it dwelt,
And in the green clumps of the pine forests,
A life was rising vigorously.
The stars are fading,
The hills are colored like roses,
Far away, by the orchard's well,
The swallows are singing.
(Wang Guorong)
The old man Cao Shuhou appreciated that the wind fled, and the terror hid, and a piece of vitality rose vigorously in the green thickets of the pine forests, which is the main tone of this poem. How vividly it is written!
Where
Heine (de 1797--1856)
Where will be the home where the weary traveler
gets his last rest?
Is it in the shade of a southern palm?
Is it under the linden tree on the Rhine?
Will I be buried by the hands of that stranger
Somewhere in the desert?
Or shall I rest forever in the sand of
a great sea?
Either way! Surrounding me,
Everywhere is always the firmament of God,
And at night, the stars that hang above me,
Like oil lamps before the spirits.
(Qian Chunqi)
Elderly Cao Shuhou appreciated Heine's death, his friends wrote this poem as his epitaph and carved it on his tombstone.
The Wild Swans of Cole Hall
Yeats (Eng. 1865----1939)
The woods were a beauty of autumn,
The wooded paths were dry,
October's twilight shrouded the running water
To reflect the silent sky;
The surfeit of water spaced the stones,
Fifty-nine swans float.
It's been nineteen autumns since I first counted them,
and I find that the counting is not yet over,
Swooping up into the sky,
Loudly flapping their wings and circling,
Outlining big, broken circles.
I have seen this glorious flock of swans,
and now it pains me,
all changed since the first time I was by the pool,
and it was twilight,
and I heard the beating of wings above my head,
and I was light on my feet then.
Not yet weary, a couple,
Marching amicably through the cold water,
Or soaring skyward,
They were young at heart,
And no matter where they floated,
There was always a passion and an ambition.
They float on the still waters,
so mysterious and beautiful!
One day they woke up, and they had flown away,
Which reeds did they settle in?
Which poolside, which lakeside,
To please the eyes of men?
1916
(Translated by Yuan Kejia)
The Elderly Cao Shuhou Appreciation Yeats was a famous English poet and playwright who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. His poem has like a light song about the beauty and freedom of swans. The poet realizes that the swans are gone: "One day they woke up and they had flown away." Where have they flown off to? Why did they fly away? Readers are invited to savor it!
Anxiety
Gavrila. Cestral (Chile 1889-1957)
I do not want
my daughter to become a swallow.
She'll flutter in the sky
and never come back to me;
She'll build her nest under the roof,
I can't braid her hair.
I don't want
my daughter to become a flying swallow.
I don't want
My daughter to be a princess.
How can she play and chase in the grass when she wears little shoes of gold
?
At night,
She can't sleep beside me ......
I don't want
My daughter to become a little princess.
More than that, I don't want
She to be a queen someday.
People embracing her on their thrones
is a place I can't go.
By night,
I can't shake her ......
I don't want
my daughter to be queen!
(Edited by Wang Guorong)
The old man Cao Shuhou appreciated this famous Chilean poetess, whose poems were highly lyrical and sincere, and who was known as the "Queen of Lyric," and who became the first Latin American writer to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1945. The poem "Anxiety" is about her hope, her hope of "not hope": she does not want her daughter to become a swallow, she does not want her daughter to become a princess, she does not want her daughter to become a queen, and the poem is full of the poet's hope which is different from that of ordinary people!
In the square of life
Vicente. Vicente Aleixandre. Melo (Spain 1898-1983)
Under the sun, in the midst of the crowd,
so beautiful, harmonious, trusting, energetic and deep,
wrapped up in the procession of the people, inspired by them, and
moving joyfully along with the tide of the people.
Staying alone on the shore,
is not the best thing to do, it is too lonely,
like a weir or a mollusk imitating the rock with lime.
It is better to throw oneself purely and serenely into
boiling bliss, to wallow and wallow.
He lived like a man in a high building, but forgot what floor he lived on,
I watched him step down the stairs
and bravely threw himself into the crowd and drowned in it.
The crowd was moving, but the broken heart was still recognizable.
Where who still makes these distinctions? Just full of
hope, firmness, nakedness, frankness and faith,
he was still so silent and meek.
How wide the square is, with the breath of all things,
which meets the rising sun in the east, wrapped in a strong wind.
This wind's hand swept over our heads,
It caressed people's foreheads and inspired them.
The crowd wriggles, coils and contracts,
tightly, like a man, not sure it is strong or cowardly,
but it is there, perceptible, covering the earth.
In which one can see oneself, ignite oneself, and recognize oneself.
Scorching noon, but you hide alone in the attic,
With curious eyes, and questions at the corners of your mouth,
Considering yourself, looking for your own silhouette.
No need to look for yourself in the mirror,
The past is unbearable.
Come down from the attic, and seek in the crowd.
There will be everything there, and you will melt into it.
Go ahead, go and melt yourself naked, to know yourself anew.
Fearful and hesitant as when first learning to swim,
but hopeful, approach the water,
stretching out one foot first and kicking at the foam
feeling the water rise, and so does your courage,
and only at last do you make up your mind.
But now the water is less than waist-high, and the confidence is not yet firm.
Spread your arms wide,
Go fling yourself into the water,
Show strength and courage
Swim forward, making waves, with joy and confidence.
Potential to be in the water, let your heart beat with the waves,
Swimming, singing, feeling young.
Yes, put your bare feet,
Into the boiling life, into this square.
Step into the current that calls to you.
This damaged little heart,
which beats in a rhythm
hoping to catch up with the giant heart of the crowd that beats in unison!
--from Destruction or Love (1932)
(edited by Wang Guorong)
The Elderly Cao Shuhou Appreciation Aleixandre is a famous poet from Spain, who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1977. He wrote poems for decades, mainly about his view of life and the universe. It is very lyrical, but it also incorporates a surrealist approach. Some of the poems are not easy to understand, but this one, "In the Square of Life" is good and full of passion for loving life. The last three lines of the poem " This small, damaged heart beats in a rhythm that hopes to catch up with the giant heart of the crowd that beats in unison! "The theme of the poem is clearly presented.
An old apple tree
Ivan. Alekseevich Bunin Bunin (Russia 1870--1953)
Covered with snowflakes, fluffy and fragrant,
Awesome, envious bees and wasps
Buzzing around you, making a pleasant noise ......
Dear old friend, are you growing senile?
It is not unfortunate. Behold, who else has had such youthful and exuberant times as you
have had!
(Translated by Ulan Khan)
The old man Cao Shuhou appreciated that the poet was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1933. His poem contains two aspects: on the one hand, for the age of man, the old man has his value envied by "bees and wasps". On the other hand, for a country or nation with a long culture, it will always be youthful and stand in the forest of the world's nations. This poem is an allegorical poem.
Promise to the stars
Gabriela Mistral (Gabriela Mistral). Gabriela mistral (1889---1957)
The stars have small eyes,
Hanging bright on black velvet,
You look down from above,
See if I am innocent?
The stars have little eyes,
They shine bright in the quiet sky,
And you're up there,
Saying am I good?
The stars have little eyes,
Their eyelashes are blinking,
Why do you have so many colors,
Blue, red, and purple?
Curious little eyes,
Open all night long without sleep,
Rose-colored dawns
Why do they blot you out?
The little eyes of the stars,
Spilling teardrops or dewdrops.
You shiver up there,
Is it the cold?
The little eyes of the stars,
I assure you:
As you look at me,
I am always, always innocent.
(Translated by Wang Yongnian)
There are many poems in China and abroad in which the old man Cao Shuhou appreciates talking to the stars. This poem assures the stars that "I am always, always innocent", which is a guarantee that the poet will always keep his heart pure. The way the poem is written is also very close and natural, and the content of this poem is quite consistent with the form.