Shayanara
For the Japanese girl
Most of all, it is the tenderness of that bowed head,
Like the shyness of a water-lotus flower that does not overcome the cool wind,
Saying "goodbye", saying "goodbye",
That "goodbye" has a honey-sweet sadness in it-
Shayanara!
"I don't know in which direction the wind is blowing"
I don't know in which direction the wind
is blowing-
I am in a dream,
I am in a dream's light wave.
I don't know in which direction the wind
is blowing-
I am in a dream,
her warmth, my ecstasy.
I don't know in which direction the wind
is blowing-
I am in a dream,
Sweet dreams of glory.
I don't know which way the wind
is blowing-
I was in a dream,
of her negativity, of my sadness.
I don't know in which direction the wind
is blowing-
I am in a dream,
Heart drunk with the sorrow of dreams!
I don't know in which direction the wind
is blowing-
I am in a dream,
Eclipsed is the light of the dream.
A night in Fiddlesticks
Are you really gone, tomorrow? Then I, then I ......
You don't have to care, sooner or later there will be that day;
You would like to remember me, remember me,
Otherwise forget this world
there I am, so as to save remembering the time when the air is annoyed,
Think of it as a dream, a fantasy;
Only think of it as a remnant of the day before yesterday when we saw the red,
Timidly shivering in the wind, a petal,
We can see it in our dreams, and it is a dream, a fantasy.
One petal,
two petals, fall to the ground, call people to step on, turn into mud ......
Oh, to be stepped on and turned into mud - turned into mud and cleaned up,
This half-dead is what is called suffering,
Looking at the shabby, burdensome, and calling for a blank stare-
Oh, God! Why did you come, why did you come ......
I can't forget you, that you you came,
It's like the darkness of the future seeing the light,
You're my Mr., my love, my benefactor,
You taught me what life is, what love is,
You woke me up from my stupor, and repaid me for my naiveté.
Without you how would I know that the sky is high and the grass is green?
Touch my heart, how fast it beats this time;
Touch my face again, how burnt it is, thanks to the darkness of this night
Unseen; Love, I am breathless,
Don't kiss me; I can't bear to live in this blazing fire,
This time my soul is like a cooked iron on the fire-bricks, under Love's hammer, smashing, smashing, smashing. and sparks
flew in all directions ...... I swoon, hold me,
Love, let me be here in the quiet garden,
closing my eyes, dying on your breast, how beautiful!
The wind in the white trees overhead, little and little,
is my funeral song, and this breeze,
blown in the olive groves, with the scent of pomegranate blossoms,
has carried my soul away, and the glowing fires,
much-loved and attentive glowing fires, and with them to light the way,
I will stop again when I come to the bridge of the three-ringed cavern,
and listen to you here, in this garden of quiet. >
Listen to you here holding my half-warm body,
Calling me sadly, kissing me, shaking me, smacking me ......
I'll just smile and follow the breeze again,
Let him lead me to heaven, hell, anywhere,
Anyway, throw away this loathsome life and realize that this death
in love, this death in the center of love, is not as strong as
five hundred reincarnations?...... Selfish, I know,
but I can't care ...... You accompany me in death?
What, it's not exactly a "death of love" if you don't have a pair,
It takes two pairs of wings to fly,
It's not the same thing if you're going to heaven,
I can't live without you and you can't live without me;
If it's hell, I'll go there alone and you won't feel at ease,
If you're saying that hell isn't more civilized than the world,
It's not as though I'm going to die with you, but I think it's a good idea if I do.
If I were to go to hell alone, I would be even more worried.
If I were to go to hell alone, I would be even more worried.
You say that hell may be more civilized than the world,
(though I don't believe it), and that I may not be caught in storms and rains,If I call out to you and you don't hear me,
That's not to be thrown into the muck of the world,
That is to say that the ghosts of the cold-hearted have colluded with the cold-hearted.
There's truth in that, so what am I to do?
Living is hard, too hard, just die shall not be free,
I and I do not want you to sacrifice your future for me ......
All right! You say or live and wait, wait for that day!
Is there such a day?
But you have to leave at dawn, you really can't bear to
Lose me and go?
But this flower, without sunshine, without manna,
will not die without the tips of its petals scorching, how pitiful!
Thou canst not forget me, love, except in thy heart,
I have no life; yea, I hear thee, I wait,
I must wait patiently for the iron tree to blossom;
Love, thou art ever a star above me;
If, unfortunately, I should die, I'd be a firefly,
In the garden, next to the roots of the grass,
Darkly flying,
Throughout this garden. I will fly in the dark,
from dusk to midnight, and from midnight to dawn,
I wish the sky were not cloudy, and that I could see the sky,
The big, unchanging star in the sky, that's you,
I wish you'd put more light on for me, through the night,
through the sky, and pass through the love of the spirit of love a little bit of ......
June 11, 1925 Fei Leng Cui
I came to the Yangzi River to buy a handful of lotus seedpods
I came to the Yangzi River to buy a handful of lotus seedpods;
Hand peeling off the layer by layer of the lotus seedpods,
seeing the gulls flying in front of my eyes,
suffering to hold a glance of sadness and tears-
I am thinking of you, I am thinking of you, ah Xiaolong!
I taste the flesh of the lotus, and recall the warmth of the past:-
The heavy curtain that is not rolled up in front of the steps,
Shielding the joyous love of the same heart:
Again I listen to the words of your covenant,
"Forever thine, my body, my soul."
I taste the lotus heart, my heart is more bitter than the lotus heart;
I am bewildered in the long night,
I cannot break the nightmare,
Who knows my pain?
You have harmed me, love, how can I live this day?
But I can't blame you for being negative, I can't bear to guess that you've changed
My heart is just a piece of tenderness;
You're mine! I still
hold you close to me--
Unless the sky turns over--but who can imagine that day?
Farewell to Kangqiao
Gently I go,
As gently I come;
I gently beckon,
To bid farewell to the clouds of the western sky.
The golden willow on the riverbank,
is the bride in the sunset;
the colorful shadow in the waves,
swings in my heart.
The yellow floating heart on the soft mud,
is waving under the water;
In the soft waves of Kangqiao,
I am willing to be a piece of water grass!
The pool under the shade of the elm,
is not a clear spring, but a rainbow in the sky;
crumbled among the floating algae,
precipitated a rainbow-like dream.
Dreams?
But I can't sing,
Silence is the psalm of parting;
And the summer insects are silent for me,
Silence is the bridge tonight!
Silently I go,
Just as I come quietly;
I wave my sleeve,
Without taking away a cloud.
About the author: Xu Zhimo (1896-1931), a native of Haining, Zhejiang Province. He is the author of the collections of poems "Poems of Zhimo", "One Night in Fei Leng Cui", "Fierce Tiger Collection", and "Traveling in the Clouds", etc. He is also the author of the book "The Poetry of Zhimo".
Author: Moonlight 2005-11-21 10:00 Reply to this statement 2Reply: ※Crescent Moon School※Poetry Group WEN Yiduo's Poem
Stagnant Water
It's a ditch of hopelessly stagnant water,
The breeze can't make a ripple.
Why not throw some more broken brass,
Splash your leftovers.
Maybe the copper should be green into emerald,
The iron pot rusted out a few peach blossoms;
And then let the grease weave a layer of Luoqi,
Mold to give him some clouds steamed.
Let the stagnant water ferment into a ditch of green wine,
Floated with pearly white foam;
The little beads laughed and turned into big beads,
And were bitten by the flower mosquitoes that stole the wine.
Then a ditch of desperate stagnant water,
is also boasted of a few sharp points.
If the frogs can't stand the loneliness,
And count the stagnant water called out a song.
This is a ditch of desperate stagnant water,
This is not a place of beauty,
It would be better to let the ugly reclaim it,
and see what kind of a world he creates.
Red Candle
The wax torch has turned into ashes and tears have begun to dry
-- Li Shangyin
Red Candle!
Such a red candle!
O poet!
Spit out your heart and compare,
But is it a common color?
O red candle!
Who is the wax that makes it - that gives you body?
Who lighted the fire - to light the soul?
Why must the wax be burned to ashes,
before the light is released?
Mistake after mistake;
Contradiction! Conflict!
O red candle!
No mistake, no mistake!
To "burn" your light -
This is the natural way.
O red candle!
When you have made it, burn it!
Burn! Burn!
Burn the dreams of the world,
Boil the blood of the world-
Save their souls too,
Break their prisons too!
O Red Candle!
The time when your heart's fire glows,
The very day when the tears begin to flow.
O Red Candle!
The Craftsman made thee,
for the purpose of burning.
If you are already burning,
Why should you weep?
Oh! I know!
It was the wind that came against your light,
and when you burned precariously,
there were tears of anxiety!
Red candle!
Shed your tears! How can you not?
Send your fat to the earth,
and keep on flowing,
and produce flowers of solace,
and fruits of joy!
O red candle!
You shed a tear, and your heart is gray.
Discouragement sheds a tear your fruit,
Creating light your cause.
O red candle!
"Ask not for the harvest, but for the plow."
Maybe
-- Burial Song
Maybe you are really tired of crying,
Maybe, maybe you want to sleep,
Then tell the night-hawks not to cough,
Frogs not to trumpet, and bats not to fly;
No sunlight shall pluck at the curtains of your eyes,
No breeze shall brush up your brow,
No one shall wake thee,
Shelter thee with an umbrella of shade;
Perhaps thou wilt hear this earthworm turn over the mud,
Listen to the roots of the grass sucking up the water,
Perhaps thou wilt hear this music
More beautiful than the voice of the cursed man;
So close thy eyelids tightly for a while,
I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep, I'll let thee sleep.
I'll cover you gently with yellow earth,
I'll tell the paper money to fly slowly.
Found
I come, I cry out, bursting with tears of blood,
"This is not my China, no, no!"
I come, for I hear you call me;
Whip the astral winds of time, Prime a fire,
I come, not knowing it is an empty joy.
I met with a nightmare, where was you?
It was terror, it was nightmare hanging from a cliff,
It was not you, it was not my beloved!
I ask after the sky, forcing the winds on all sides,
I ask, my fists beating the earth's bare chest,
Always asking for news, I cry for you,
vomiting out a heart, - in my heart!
A word
There is a word uttered that is a curse,
There is a word that lights a fire.
Don't look at five thousand years without saying anything,
You can guess the silence of the volcano?
Maybe it's suddenly possessed,
Suddenly a thunderbolt in the blue sky
exploded:
"Our China!"
What am I supposed to say today?
If you don't believe in the blossoming of the iron tree,
then there is a sentence for you to listen to:
When the volcano can't hold back its silence,
Don't shiver, stick out your tongue, and pause,
Wait until there's a thunderbolt in the blue sky
Bursting with a bang:
"Our China!"
About the author:Wen Yiduo (1899-1946), a native of Xishui, Hubei. He is the author of the poetry collections "Red Candle" and "Dead Water". 作者：漫过月光 2005-11-21 10:00 回复此发言 3回复：※新月派※诗群 朱湘的诗
Bury Me
Bury me in a lotus pond,
Waterworms dragging in my ears,
On the lamps of green lotus leaves,
Fireflies dimming and brightening-
Bury me in the maize flower,
Forever dreaming of fragrance--
Bury me on the top of Mount Tai,
Wind whimpering past the lone pines--
Or else burn me to ashes,
Throw me into the flooded spring river,
Float me with the fallen flowers to a place
No one will ever know.
Rain scenes
My favorite rain scenes are many:
The pattering in front of the window on a spring night while dreaming;
The sound of the rain hitting the banana leaves;
The foggy rain that brushes against one's face;
Thunderstorms that splash down in the light of the electricity-
But the sky at the time of the rain is what I love the most.
It's gray but transparent;
It holds a silent anticipation.
And out of the clouds, out of nowhere,
drifted a clear bird cry.
There are memories
of the yellowish sunlight,
which leaves no trace in the twinkling of an eye.
Everything stops,
All the noise stops.
The crows that dream,
The occasional throaty sound when the wind comes;
The silent evening tide of peace,
Has flooded the city.
The street lamps are lit with a faint red,
The hawks have flown off the battlements,
And in the white quilt of twilight smoke,
The purple bells of the mountain are at rest.
In the lonesome streets,
In the shade of the walls of the princes and lords,
When a bamboo tube rings,
It is the old man who sells the lanterns
Picking Lotus Song
The boat floats gently,
Yanglius willow sways in the wind,
Lotus leafs are green,
Lotus blossoms are alluring,
And the lotus flower is enchanting,
The lotus blossoms are enchanting.
Sunset,
Microwave,
Golden threads flash across the stream.
Left line
Right support,
Lotus boat sing.
The Nymphaea is half-open,
Bees and butterflies are not allowed to come.
Patting tightly
Patting softly
Oars answered the song
The lotus root heart is long,
Shy, the water is deep;
Not seeing the cocoon,
Silk, the chrysalis is wrapped in the center?
The lotus root is picked at the head of the stream,
and the lady wants to pick it, but she is hesitant to do so.
The waves are sinking,
the waves are rising,
the waves are singing.
The lotus seeds are plentiful:
The durian trees on both sides of the river,
The magpies are noisy,
The durian blossoms have fallen on Shilla.
In the stream,
Picking up the pomegranate,
The ears and temples are blushing.
The winds are blowing,
and the winds are singing.
The moon has risen,
and the weaving maiden has taken the bull by the hand;
The mist has whisked the water,
and the cool wind has drifted the lotus boat.
Flower fragrance,
clothing fragrance,
dissolve into a vast expanse;
Sometimes quiet,
Sometimes smell,
Songs curling in the void.
October 24, 1925
About the author: Zhu Xiang (1904-1933), Ziyuan. A native of Taihu, Anhui Province. His main collections of poems include Summer, Cao Mang Jie, Shimen Jie, and Zhu Xiang's Poems. 作者：漫过月光 2005-11-21 10:01 回复此发言 4回复：※新月派※诗群 陈家梦的诗
Nine Dragons Wall
I ask the first dragon what do you want?
To be stately, I'll give you a glorious look;
The second dragon, if you want to be proud,
Give you an erect waist like a rainbow;
Perhaps you, the third dragon, want the magical,
I can create all man-made artifacts;
If you love the clouds,
The fourth dragon,
I'll carve ten tongyuns to be
I know that the fifth dragon loves strength,
and gives you the majesty, the strength, and the might;
the sixth dragon, the seventh, gives you
mystical eyes to see all things;
the eighth dragon, the purple dragon, and the ninth dragon, the pale dragon,
gives you the power of the gods under my wrists.
The nine dragons cried out in unison, We want life!
Weide first had this title. December 27th Beijing Haidian ice narrow.
A wild flower
A wild flower blooms and falls in the wilderness,
Not to think of this little life, grinning at the sun,
God gave him the cleverness he himself knows,
His joy, his poetry, swaying lightly before the wind.
A wild flower blooms and falls in the wilderness,
He sees the green sky, and cannot see his own insignificance,
He is accustomed to hear the wind's tenderness, and to hear its fury,
Even his own dreams are easily forgotten.
The night of the ancient battlefield
You need not wonder at the people crawling out of the grass,
The golden serpent of blood carrying the light across the sea;
That day you will be bewildered at the falling through of your dreams,
And you will not be able to guess which of the families of heroes you have made.
You don't have to pick a mountain or a piece of dirt,
Everywhere is your home, your place;
You'll fall asleep and I'll tell you, it's over,
It's all there, butterflies and weeds.
Belief
That night I walked past her grave,
Under a holly I thought I heard,
Her sigh, "I've never forgotten you,
Believe I'll always love you in my heart."
I pushed away the stone of that tomb,
Toward the dark and the chilly I asked,
"Love, speak to me again," -
A cocklesnake crawled in the skull.
Lanzhuang, September 10th Night
Author's biography:Chen Mengjia (1911-1966), a native of Shangyu, Zhejiang. Published poetry collections include Dream Family Poetry Collection, Iron Horse Collection, and Dream Family Surviving Poems. 作者：漫过月光 2005-11-21 10:01 回复此发言 5回复：※新月派※诗群 林徽音的诗
You are the April day on earth
-- A loving tribute
I say you are the April day on earth;
Laughing sound lights up the four winds; Lightness
In the light and color of spring, you are intermingled with change.
You are the cloudy smoke in the early April sky;
The dusk blows with the softness of the wind, the stars flash unintentionally in
and the drizzle sprinkles in front of the flowers.
That light, that graceful, you are, Fresh Yan
Hundreds of flowers of the crown you are wearing, you are
Naive, solemn, you are the full moon night after night.
After the snow melts the piece of goose yellow, you are like; fresh
The green of the first release of buds, you are; tender joy
The watery light floats the white lotus of your dream expectation.
You are the blossoming of a tree, the swallow
murmuring between the beams, - you are love, warmth,
hope, you are the April day on earth!
Laughing
Laughing were her eyes, her mouth and lips,
and the rounded swirls of her lips.
Colorful as dewdrops,
Dodgy smiles ducked toward the flash of
shell teeth.
It was laughter-the laughter of God, the laughter of beauty;
The reflection of the water, the soft song of the wind;
Laughing were her drowsy curls,
Scattered next to her ears.
Light and soft as a flower's shadow,
Tickling sweetness,
Surges into your heart.
That's a smile - the smile of a poem, the smile of a painting:
The traces of a cloud, the soft waves of a wave.
Don't lose
Don't lose,
This handful of passing passions,
Now flowing like water
Gently
With cold mountain springs at the bottom of a ghostly spring,
In the darkness of the night, in the pine forests,
Sighing as if it were slim.
Thou shalt still keep that true!
The same moonlight,
The same lights,
The same sky full of stars,
Only the people are missing,
Hanging like a dream,
You ask the night for the word back--
You still have to believe that
The valleys hold
There is that echo!
Author's biography:Lin Weiyin (1903-1955), female. Her pen name is Lin Weiyin, a native of Minhou County, Fujian Province. She is the author of Lin Weiyin Poetry Collection and other books. Author: Moonlight 2005-11-21 10:02 Reply to this statement 6Reply: ※Crescent Moon School※Poetry Group Poem by Rao Mengkan
Inviting the Soul
--Hanging up my friend Yang Zihui
Come on, don't be hesitant,
Take advantage of the fact that the chickens haven't crowed yet;
Look at the light from afar,
Dark as a fisherman's fire, one after the other...
It's the same as a fisherman's fire. -
I am waiting for you in that light.
Come on, don't you hesitate!
Come, why do you wander?
I'll make a pot of tea and wait for you to come.
Look at the white cranes,
One flying over the pot,
Is it not an arrangement of the past?
Come, why do you hover?
Come, and do not hesitate;
While I am in a daze and do not remember,
You come in softly,
You drop your leaves and float down the steps,
Surprise me coldly.
Come on, there's no need to hesitate!
Call
Once I was in the poplar forest,
and heard a kindly call;
Then the moonlight was looking at Wengzhong,
and Wengzhong was looking at me.
No longer I heard the call,
I was startled, and looked about me;--
Wengzhong was only looking at the moonlight,
and the moonlight was only sneering at me.
About the author:Rao Mengkan (1902-1967), formerly known as Rao Zili. A native of Nanchang, Jiangxi Province. His major works include a collection of poems called "The Mudman Collection". 作者：漫过月光 2005-11-21 10:02 回复此发言 7回复：※新月派※诗群 Zhu Dazhang's Poem
Laughing
Charlotte's veil dances in the morning with a cone of laughs
Lightly, it is the flame of red candles
There are laughs to warm and soothe your long, bleak night.
There is a smile in the lake of Cui Yu,
Emaciated, it is the new bud of the white lotus,
There is a smile that sobers your drowsy early dawn.
A smile leaps from the bronze sheath,
Ho-ho, the snowy sword,
There is a smile that cuts off your spiritual ease.
Customer by customer
Since you moved to live in my heart,
The anguish is the rent you give me;
But I always long for a day of idleness and quietness,
Without your dancing and singing in my heart.
When did I ever post for rent?
About the author: Zhu Dazhao (1903-1932), a native of Ba Xian, Chongqing, collected seven poems in the collection of Chinese New Literature Da Di * Poetry, and three in the Selected New Poems. 作者：漫过月光 2005-11-21 10:02 回复此发言 8回复：※新月派※诗群 Shao Xunmei's Poem
Season
When I first saw you you gave me your heart,
Inside was a spring morning.
You gave me your words when I saw you again,
Unspeakable was the blazing summer of fire.
Three times I saw you you gave me your hand,
and inside it hid a leaf-fallen late fall.
The last time I saw you was a short dream I had.
In my dream there was you and a bunch of winter winds.
About the author: Shao Xunmei (1898-1975), pen name Shao Haowen, Shao Haoping. He is a native of Yuyao County, Zhejiang Province. Mainly has a collection of poems "Paradise and May" (later reorganized as "Flowering Sins"), "Twenty-five Poems" and so on. Author: Moonlight 2005-11-21 10:03 Reply to this 9Reply: ※Crescent Moon School※Poetry Group Fang Lingru's Poems
Lingqi
One night I rode on the faint starlight,
I walked up the familiar mountain path by myself,
The spring was still thinly embracing on the rocks,
White dew stained my grassy clothes.
A phosphorus flame illuminated the sprawling thorns,
A pair of vermilion-crowned pythons led the way,
Guiding me up a thousand white steps,
in search of the stone wall with its engraved inscriptions.
You, the words engraved on the stone suddenly became
a clever white dove, which gently flew down and up again -
on its tiny wings was tied my hope,
the solidity of faith and the eternity of life.
But this wondrous sign, this wondrous light,
In my surprise I was trying to hold you close,
I felt my way into this darkness, this stillness of night,
The cold wind of the gods and monsters chilled my breast.
About the author: Fang Lingru (1897-1976), female. A native of Tongcheng County, Anhui Province. Poems were included in the New Moon Poetry Anthology. 作者：漫过月光 2005-11-21 10:03 回复此发言 10回复：※新月派※诗群 It seems to be the case that you have to move a chair often, to listen to the lessons! By: 跑滩的菜蟹 2005-11-21 10:03 Reply to this post 11Reply: ※新月派※诗群 Yu Ganyu's Poem
Shadow
Look, the autumn leaves are drifting under the bright stars and moon,
We met with you in the night of the deserted shore of the remaining autumn,
The stars and moon are exceptionally bright, and the clouds that are gathering and dispersing have a hundred winks of hope.
Look, the autumn leaves are drifting under the bright stars and moon,
My bitter heart at the bottom of the sea in this silent night,
will be happy and bright with the smile of your long goodbye.
The life of the lonely goose is buried in the grave of the lonely weeping,
The beautiful rose blooms and then sheds its leaves, and withers and comes back to life,
Tell me, good man, what is the life of a human being?
This place of attachment will rejuvenate from the winter of desolation,
The sea and the clouds have been companions since the beginning of time,
Tell me, good man, what is human life like?
The night is deep, the frosty mist has wet my coat, your green skirt,
Tightly clinging to each other, tightly holding each other, silent, quiet,
Looking up to see the lonely moon is silent and bright, looking down to see the pale waves embracing each other.
The night is deep, the frost and fog permeate my coat, your green skirt,
Silent in the confusion of the ancient temple of the evening bell awakened the indestructible love,
Mountains and the sea is silent, your shadow, my shadow fuzzy indistinguishable ......
About the author: Yu Ganyu (1902-1962), a native of Xiping, Henan Province. He is the author of the collections of poems "Roses on the Skeleton" and "The Lonely Island". Author: roaming through the moonlight 2005-11-21 10:03 Reply to this statement 12Reply: ※Crescent Moon School※Poetry Group Liu Mengwei's Poem
Railroad Row
We are the pedestrians on top of the railroad,
Love is just like the two railroad lines running parallel to each other.
Many sleepers hold them together,
but seem to separate them.
There is hope ahead of us,
The parallel tracks of love can continue to grow;
We see from afar that the front is already embracing,
and we try to run towards it.
And when we came to the place of the interlocking,
were not the rails the same as before?
Looking ahead, we saw that it was the same as before,
and we went on our way.
As long as there is hope ahead,
as long as love and hope are prolonged:
I vow to go forward with you forever,
until we reach the end of this parallel railroad track.
About the author: Liu Mengwei (1900-1926), formerly known as Liu Tongjun, a native of Anxiang, Hunan Province, whose poems were included in the Poetry Monthly Selected Poems. (This is what I found)