★ It is the youth of the wind.
Crickets in the park fence
Silence will only be better.
Habitat.
Surrounded by pastures.
In Neven Park,
A stream without slopes,
A child without relatives or reasons.
Describe their sadness,
It's better to live like this.
Neifeng park Li
A rebel
Meet the stream, meet the child,
Finally satisfied this fantasy.
Neifeng park Li
It is summer that is doomed to death.
None of the crickets chirped.
It, from time to time, is silent.
Machado (1875- 1939) published poems such as Loneliness, The Promenade, and The Fields of Castile.
★ Nursing home
This is a nursing home, an ancient nursing home in other provinces.
In a big dilapidated house, the tiles are all black.
Summer has become a nesting place for brown swallows.
Only crows are cold on it in winter nights.
Its gables face north, in the old castle.
Between the two towers is a destroyed house.
Cracked wall, dirty wall, is a
Always dark corner, old nursing home!
The sun in the first month gave off a faint light,
The bleak day covered the barren fields,
It was almost dawn when a window appeared.
A few pale, dull faces,
Gazing at the purple peak of the distant mountain;
Ah, gloomy sky. It's like being in a cemetery.
White snow fell and fell on the cold earth.
Silent snowflakes fall on the cold earth! ……
★ In the bitter land
In the land of pain
Dreams paved a maze of roads-
A winding path,
The flowering garden is dark and quiet;
The crypt where the coffin stops, the steps where the stars climb,
Altar Relief: Memory and Hope-
Old sad dolls—
Little humanoid smile, passing by;
Friendly image-
The path is at the corner of the flowers.
The illusion of roses,
Mark the road ... into the distance ...
Genio de andrade (1923-), whose main works are Hand and Fruit (1948), The Night Before Water (1937) and Couples Without Money (1950).
★ Sing
You are snow.
Touched snow.
Tears and jasmine
At dawn.
You are water.
When I kiss you, you are sea water.
Tower, soul, ship,
Farewell without beginning or end.
You are a fruit.
Between my trembling fingers.
We can sing.
Or fly, and we will die.
However, it is possible
Remember this name,
Never left me.
Color and taste.
★ and so on
Time, endless time
Heavy, deep,
I'll wait for you,
Until all is silent.
Until a stone breaks,
Bloom into flowers.
Until a bird flew out of my throat,
Disappear into the vast sea of people.
★ Green God
Whenever night falls,
You will show the charm of the clear spring.
Your body is like a stream,
Slowly descending,
Quietly hitting the banks on both sides.
You're in a hurry,
There is no moment to stop.
Follow in your footsteps,
Grass breaks ground and germinates,
The big tree has grown out.
You smile as if you were dancing,
You are familiar with the melody used by the gods,
Swing your body in the same rhythm,
On the move,
The leaves on my body have fallen to the ground.
Keep going along your own path,
Because you are a dead god.
Careless about everything around you.
Indulge in piccolo
The music started.
Quasimodo (190 1- 1968), whose main poetry collections include Water and Earth (1930), The Lost Flute, erato and Apollo, New Poetry, Life is Not a Dream, etc. Issued by Nobel Prize in Literature on 1959.
★ Fading flute sound
The pain of greed is on me.
Longing for lonely moments,
Don't send your present in a hurry.
Han Di, play it again.
The happiness of evergreen leaves. This makes me
Memory loss; Happiness is not for me.
Night falls on my mind,
In my fat hands,
The water drops are dry.
Wings in the hazy sky
Swing: the heart flies from one place to another,
I can't farm this land.
Every day is a pile of rubbish.
Selected poems of holderlin
★ Half of a floating life
Guahuangli
Wild plants are everywhere.
The shore of the lake is reflected in the lake.
Lovely swan
You're drunk and kissing.
Stick your head in.
Sacred and calm water
Sadly, winter has come.
Where should I pick flowers?
Where can I find sunshine?
What about the shadow of the earth?
Surrounded by walls
Cold and silent, the wind believes in the flag.
The wind howled.
Milosz (191-) won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1980, and his published poems include Light in the Day, Poetry Essays and so on.
★ Should, should not.
People should not love the moon.
The axe should not lose weight in his hand.
His yard should smell of rotten apples,
It was covered with a lot of marijuana.
A person should not use words that he feels kind to.
Otherwise pry open the seeds and see what's inside.
He shouldn't throw crumbs or spit in the fire.
At least that's how I was educated in Lithuania.
When he stepped on the marble steps,
Hillbilly, he may try to get rid of it with his boots,
Just a reminder: stone steps don't exist forever.
★ Happiness
What warm light? From the bright bay,
Masts, like spruce, the rest of the cables,
In the morning fog. There, the stream is gurgling.
Into the sea, the flute sounds by the bridge.
In the distance, under the arch of ancient ruins,
You see some tiny figures walking around.
One is wearing a red scarf. There are trees,
Walls and mountains in the morning.
Seifert (190 1- 1986), whose main collections of poems are Pigeon (1929), Venus' Hand (1936) and Mother (/kloc-
★ ties in the sky
In the last few seconds before dying.
Mother's face turned to us.
Sobbed and said huskily.
"Nothing."
Then her lips closed silently forever.
Her rose ring that has been kissed a hundred times.
What kind of abyss?
All her prayers
And those quiet songs I sang when I was young.
Where did it go?
The fear and depression caused by those little things
Where did it go?
All crimes have a clear definition.
No matter how
Those who are right are as good as others!
In a short time.
When we jump up from the land
Fall down again
What kind of darkness has she experienced?
I quietly came to the balcony.
From mother's broken chair
(Looking up at something)
It's a little dark at that height.
In our long life.
They have been staring at us from the window.
Didn't ask for anything,
Or ask us for anything.
what do you think?
They have an indescribable beauty.
Then we tried to kill them.
With ivy seeds,
The seeds of roses,
Words and tears!
Finally, we want to tear it up.
Their glowing hair
With our last breath
That is to say, (even in our powerful throats)
The weakest.
Walcott (1930-), whose main works are the wreck of a sunken ship (1965), Grapes (1976), The Kingdom of Star Apples (1979), Lucky Traveler (. 1992 get Nobel Prize in Literature.
Spend the rest of your life on the beach
Hungry eyes greedily devour the seascape for a leaf.
Delicious sails.
The horizon puts it on an infinite line.
Action breeds madness. I was lying down,
There is a coconut shadow on the rib of the driver's clothes.
Afraid of adding your own footprints.
Blowing sand, thin as smoke,
Tired of it, move its dunes.
The tide is as tired of its castle as a child.
Salty green vines and yellow morning glory,
A net moves slowly in the void.
Nothing: the anger that fills the sandfly brain.
The pleasures of the elderly:
In the morning, I meditate and think.
Dead leaves, arranged naturally.
In the sun, shit.
This street is dirty and white.
We end up in the soil and start in the soil.
The creation of our internal organs.
Listen carefully, I can hear corals growing.
The two waves fell silent.
Squeeze a sea louse, and I can make lightning break out.
Like god, I destroy divinity and art.
And self, I abandon
Metaphor of death: the heart of apricot leaves.
A mature brain is rotten like a yellow walnut.
Incubate it
A pile of sea lice, sandflies and maggots,
The Gospel of the Green Bottle choked on the sand.
The label says, the wreck of the ship,
The clinging driftwood is pale and nailed like a human hand.
Selected Poems of Bindra Nasr Tagore.
★ 1
In the shade of rainy July
You walk with secret steps.
Quiet as night.
A watcher who runs from everything.
Close your eyes this morning.
Ignore the howling east wind and cry repeatedly
The thick veil covers the blue sky that is always awake.
The forest stopped singing.
Every family is closed.
On this cold and lonely street
You are a lonely pedestrian.
Oh, my only friend
The person I love most
My door is open, don't leave like a dream.
Yehuda amichai (1924-2000), a famous Jewish poet in the 20th century, has published a collection of poems, Poetry: 1948- 1962, Now in the storm, Poetry:1963-1962.
★ Rain in the battlefield
-in memory of Dicky
Rain falls on my friend's face;
In the name of my living friend,
Those who cover their heads with blankets—
On my dead friend's face,
Those that don't cover anything.
Borges (1900- 1986), whose main poems are Enthusiasm of Buenos Aires (1923), The Moon in Front (1925) and The Manual of Saint Martin (1925).
★ It rains
Dusk suddenly becomes bright.
Because it is raining in Mao Mao at the moment.
Or have been forgotten.
rain
There is no doubt that this happened in the past.
Who heard the rain?
Who will remember?
at that time
The fate of happiness unfolded before him.
A flower called a rose.
And its wonderful bright red.
This covered the Mao Mao rain on the window pane.
Will be in the abandoned suburbs
In a yard that no longer exists.
Black grapes on the shelf.
Wet curtain color
Bring me the voice I long for.
My father is back. He's not dead.
Akhmatova (1889- 1966) is one of the most famous female poets in Russian literary history. She and her ex-husband, gumilyov, are both outstanding representatives of Akmei School.
★ Like a fiancee
Like a fiancee,
Every dusk
I received a letter,
I wrote back to my friend,
Until midnight.
"Through the dark road,
I visited death.
My dear,
Please don't do evil to anyone in the world. "
A superstar,
Between two tree trunks,
Such a calm promise.
To realize those dreams.
★ Fragments
..... I think it's this lamp.
Fly with me to the dawn,
I don't know,
What color is it—
These strange eyes.
Singing and trembling,
I can't tell whether you are a friend or an enemy.
It's midwinter or midsummer.
We won't say goodbye.
We won't say goodbye,
Walk side by side.
It's dusk,
You meditate, I am silent.
The two of us walked into the church and saw
Prayer, baptism, marriage,
We came out without looking at each other. ...
Why didn't we do this?
The two of us came to the cemetery,
Sitting in the snow and sighing softly,
You draw a palace with a stick,
We will live there forever in the future.
Osip Emilie Vitch Mandelshtam (1891-1938) was a famous poet, essayist and poetry theorist in the Russian Silver Age (19 to the early 20th century).
★ Untitled
What is elusive is the image of your ascetic monk.
I can't touch you through fog.
"My God!" I blurted out a mistake,
Just because I don't think about it.
God's name is like a big bird,
Run away from my palm.
The fog is advancing,
In the back, there is an empty birdcage. There are no birds.
Rilke (1879- 1926), a famous Austrian poet, wrote Life and Poetry (1894) and Dedication to God (1896).
★ A serious moment
Who is crying in a corner of the world at the moment,
Crying in the world for no reason,
Cry for me.
Who is laughing somewhere in the world at the moment,
Laughing in the world for no reason,
Laugh at me.
He is walking somewhere in the world at the moment,
Traveling around the world for no reason,
Walk towards me.
No matter who is executed in the world at this moment,
Died in the world for no reason,
Look at me.
Preville: French poet
★ In the park
A thousand years, ten thousand years.
hard to say
The eternity of this moment
You kissed me.
I kissed you.
In winter, in the hazy morning.
Early in the morning in Monsuri Park.
The park is in Paris.
Paris is a city on the ground.
The earth is a star in the sky.
The main poems of Heaney (1939-) are Death of a Naturalist (1966) and The Gate to Darkness (1969).
★ drink water
She comes to fetch water every morning,
Stumbling like an old bat.
The whooping cough of the pump, the sound of the bucket,
When the thorn is almost full, the noise gradually decreases.
Announce that she is there.
Her gray skirt,
A pockmarked white enamel bucket, her voice
It squeaks like the handle of a pump.
Think about those nights, when the full moon floats on the gable,
The moonlight shone through the window and fell on the glass on the table.
once again
I lowered my head and drank with my mouth open.
Faithful to the advice engraved on the cup,
"Don't forget the giver" passes by your lips.
★ followers
My father is plowing the land and driving the horse away.
The drum bypassed the shoulder like a sail.
Hanging between the shaft and the ridge,
The horse pulled hard and shouted.
Is an expert. He installed fenders,
Fix the sharp steel blade, it is bright,
Turf will not break when turned over.
At the end of the ridge, the reins broke,
The sweaty horse turned around
Back on the battlefield, he only had one eye.
Squeeze into a crack, peep at the earth,
Accurately estimate the row spacing between excavated ridges.
After he nailed his boots, I tripped,
Sometimes I fall on the smooth lawn,
Sometimes he lets me ride on his back,
As his footsteps suddenly came up and suddenly went down.
I am eager to grow up and farm.
Close one eye and let your arm push.
All I can do is in the fields.
Follow his broad shadow.
I'm a loser, always tripping,
Fall, quack, but now
But dad fell behind me,
Follow me and refuse to leave.