I am a happy lamb square dance.

Turgenev (Russia) at dusk in spring

Golden clouds

Flying on the still earth;

Vast and silent fields,

Shining with the light of dew;

The stream gurgled in the shadow of the canyon—

The thunder of spring rang in the distance,

A lazy breeze is among the leaves of poplars.

Incite with bound wings.

The tall Woods were silent and motionless,

Green and dark forests are silent.

Only occasionally, in the deep shadow,

A sleepless leaf is rustling.

Stars, Venus of beautiful love,

Shining in flames at sunset,

How bright and sacred my heart is,

As light as childhood.

( 1843)

Note: This poem was written by Russian composer Rubinstein in 1848.

Qu. (translated by Ge Baoquan)

2. Frost's Spring Prayer (USA)

Oh, please give us joy in flowers today;

Please don't let us think too far.

Like those uncertain gains; Let's stay.

Here, in the most energetic spring of the year.

Oh, please give us joy in the white orchard.

Nothing is like during the day, and it is like a ghost at night;

Let's be happy among the happy bees,

When bees gather around the perfect tree and swell.

Let's be happy among the flying birds.

When their voices suddenly came from above the bees,

With a beak like a needle tip, a meteor squeezed in.

Rush through a quiet flower in midair.

Because this is love, nothing else,

Love exists for God, because love.

He can deify himself at will,

But this love needs us to practice.

3. Hopkins University (UK) Spring

Nothing is better than spring-

The swaying grass is tall, beautiful and lush;

Thrush eggs are like low altitude, and thrush sounds.

Listen in the echoing Woods,

Listening to it sing, it feels like lightning bombardment;

The flowers and leaves of pear trees are bright and clear.

Brush the drooping blue sky; Blue is really passionate,

Really rich; Lambs can't help running and playing.

What are these pleasures that nourish the soul?

Is the essence of the earth at the beginning of Eden—

Before it becomes boring or gloomy.

Before being eroded by sin, the son of the virgin,

Win the innocent hearts of young people,

You have many choices, and it's worth choosing, Lord Christ.

(translated by Huang Gao)

4. Spring-Dedicated to Dear Mika Fofanov

Spring is as hot as gold.

The whole city is sunny and clean!

I am me again: I am young again!

I am full of happiness and love again.

The heart is singing, eager to run to the ridge.

I regard everyone as' you' ...

How vast! How free!

What a beautiful song! What beautiful flowers!

It is best to ride in a carriage and bump at will!

It is best to walk on the green grass!

Look at the rosy face of the peasant woman.

Embrace your enemies like friends!

Make a sound, broad-leaved forest in spring!

Planting grass! The flowers are blooming, lilacs!

There are no sinners among us: everyone is right.

How can such a beautiful day not be like this!

19 1 1 April

5. Saba (Italy) "Spring"

I don't like spring,

How much I want to tell you.

The first ray of sunshine in spring

Turn the corner of the street,

Hurt me like a sword.

Bare branches

On the bare land

A vague shadow

Makes me upset,

It seems possible for me.

should

Get regeneration.

Your arrival

Make the grave look unsafe.

Ancient spring

You are more cruel than any season.

Because of you, everything came back to life.

Destroyed because of you.

6. Bertrand (France) "Another Spring"

All stirring thoughts and desires.

Is a slave to love.

-Coleridge (1)

It's another spring-another drop of dew will roll in my bitter cup and then escape like a tear!

Oh, my youth! Your happiness is printed with the cold kiss of time. Time is suffocating in the arms of pain, but as time goes by, your pain remains.

Oh, woman! You took the glory from my life! If someone lies in my bizarre love experience, it's not me, if there is.

The person who was cheated must not be you!

Oh, spring! You are a little migratory bird, you are our temporary guest, and your sad song echoes in the poet's heart and among the oak trees!

It's another spring-it's another May sunshine, stroking the young poet's forehead, shining the world, shining the crown of the old oak tree and hitting the tree.

In the bushes! (Translated by Huang Jianhua)

(1) the British romantic poet (1772- 1834). Together with Wordsworth and Southey, they are called the three poets by the lake.

7. Okaoka Shinji (Japan) Spring

Dig a sleeping spring on the beach.

You smile and decorate your hair with it.

Spread out a laughing bubble in the sky like a ripple.

In the grass-colored sunshine, the sea is quietly warm.

My hand holds yours.

The stone you threw is in my sky.

Under today's sky

Flowing flower shadow

The new buds on our hands.

At the center of our vision

Spinning around with water droplets

The golden sun

Are we lakes or trees?

It was the light that fell on the lawn through the cracks in the trees.

A dance in which light flows under a sieve between trees.

This is a pile of your hair.

we ...

The door opened in the fresh air.

Calling for the shade and our countless arms

Brand-new roads stretch on the soft skin of the earth.

Your hands shine in spring.

So our eyelashes are bathed in the sun.

Began to mature quietly.

Ocean and fruit

1952 (memory and present)

Ming Lan translation-world literature (1987.2. )

8. merrick (German) "In Spring"

I'm lying on this spring hill:

White clouds become my wings,

A bird flies in front of me.

Ah, tell me, lonely girl,

Where are you? Let me stay with you!

But you are the wind, and you are all homeless.

My heart is open, like a sunflower,

In love and

Hope clock

Desire and expansion,

What do you expect in spring?

When can I be quiet?

I saw the white clouds moving and the river running.

The golden kiss of the sun

Deep into my blood;

My drunken eyes

It's like falling asleep,

Only my ears are still listening to the buzz of bees.

I've thought a lot about this and that,

I am expecting, but I don't know what to expect;

Half is sadness, half is happiness;

My heart, oh, let me ask you,

In the shadow of golden green branches

What memories are you weaving?

-indescribable past days!

(1828) translated by Qian Chunkun.

9. petofi (Hungarian) Come on, spring, come on! 》

"Come on, spring!" (I think so in autumn)

"I'm waiting for you, because you brought me happiness.

There is my beautiful young girl outside the village.

I am free to visit there;

If I am 0/00 miles away from her/kloc-,

I want to walk to her from a hundred miles away.

If the sun rises in the east at dawn,

If the sun sets in the evening,

The moon rises, and then it snoops.

Gorgeous boudoir with shining stars,

I became a girl's faithful shadow,

Became her follower.

In spring, you are like her love,

Your flowers bloom on her fiery chest,

She picked the flowers and faced her flushed face.

Put flowers in my heart;

Why not wear it? Is it impossible?

My fiancee will never kiss me again.

Come on, your fragrant corolla in spring!

I put you on my fiancee's head! "

Come on, your fragrant corolla in spring!

I put you on the cross in front of her grave!

10, Hans Caroca (German) "Spring"

The sun stood in the cathedral square again,

The children are playing by the ancient well.

A flock of pigeons glistened like brass on the steps,

The clouds are floating and heavy.

Just like a sponge absorbs enough light. It's spring.

An open window in the cathedral square.

There is a gaunt girl sitting in the town.

She doesn't look at clouds or beautiful pigeons.

She had to cover for a woman she didn't know,

Sewing dance clothes, making silk hats,

The whole day often adds half a night,

Hands and feet are often frozen stiff.

Occasionally, when in the abdomen.

The fetus beats gently,

The dull little soul seems to touch the light,

Her bitter lips are now rosy. It's spring.

(translated by Zhang houren)

1 1, the moment of spring Haydn Stein (Sweden)

Now, people feel sorry for the dead,

They can't be in spring

Bathed in the sun

Sitting on a bright and warm hillside full of flowers.

However, the victim may be whispering.

Tell primroses and violets,

No one alive can understand.

The dead know more than the living.

When the sun goes down,

Maybe they will be happier than us.

Wandering in the shadow of the night,

Those mysterious ideas,

Only the grave knows.