British poet Shelley's famous poem describing a bird in the snow

To the Skylark

(English) Shelley - Translated by Jiang Feng

Hello, happy elf!

You never seem to be a bird,

from heaven or the neighborhood of heaven,

with hearty music,

without any polish. The art of expressing your heartfelt feelings.

Up, then fly higher,

You jump up from the ground,

Like a blazing blue cloud,

Passing through the blue sky,

Forever singing and flying, flying and singing.

The sun below the horizon,

radiates golden electric light,

the clouds are steaming in the clear sky,

you are bathed in the bright light Flying,

The joy that seems to have no form begins a rapid expedition.

The faint purple dusk,

melts around your voyage,

like a star in the day sky,

Although , invisible,

but you can clearly hear your strong and joyful voice -

That sharp and bright music,

like the sharpness of silver starlight The sword,

its strong light,

grows dim in the morning light,

until it is hard to distinguish, but it can be felt that it is in space.

The whole earth and atmosphere,

your melodious singing voice resounds,

as if in the desolate night,

from a solitary cloud Behind the scenes,

the bright moon shines brightly, filling the universe with its clear brilliance.

We don’t know what you are

What is most similar to you?

From the neon-like clouds,

it is difficult to fall such beautiful rain,

which can be compared with the sweet rain of music that falls with your appearance.

Like a poet,

hidden in the brightness of thought.

Reciting impromptu poetic rhymes,

until the sympathy of the whole world,

are awakened by hopes and worries that have not been noticed.

Like a noble girl,

living on the balcony of a deep palace,

in lonely and unspeakable moments,

dismissing The feeling of suffering from love,

Songs as sweet as love overflow beyond the boudoir.

Like a golden firefly,

in the deep mountains and deep valleys with condensation,

does not show its whereabouts,

The crystal clear light spreads among the flowers and grass that block our sight.

Like a rose shaded by her own green leaves

Suffering the ravages of the hot wind,

until its Fragrant and fragrant

It intoxicates the reckless snitch with its overly strong sweetness.

The sparkling grass,

the sound of spring rain falling,

the flower buds awakening after the rain,

can be called Everything that is bright, joyful, and fresh can't compare to your music.

Birds or elves,

What sweet thoughts are in your heart?

I have never heard

a song of love or a mellow wine,

that can burst out with such a divine stream of bliss.

Whether it is a chorus in praise of marriage,

whether it is a song of triumph,

compared with your music,

but It is empty exaggeration,

People can detect that there is always poverty in it.

What kind of objects or events

are the source of your joyful songs?

Fields, waves or mountains?

Aerial and land forms?

Is it love for the same kind, or insulation from pain?

With your clear and strong joy,

languor will never appear,

the shadow of trouble will never

get close to you Around you,

you love, but you never know the sadness of being overly loving.

Wake up or fall asleep,

your understanding of death must be deeper than

what we mortals dream

Really, otherwise

How could the flow of your music flow like liquid crystal?

We look forward and backward, worrying about

things that do not exist.

Our most sincere smiles,

are also intertwined with a certain kind of Anguish,

Our most beautiful music is the tune that best expresses grief.

However, even if we can abandon

hatred, arrogance and fear,

even if we are born unable

to shed a tear,

We don’t know how to get close to your happiness.

This is you who despise the dust, your artistic skills.

Teach me half of your heart

Must be familiar joy,

Harmonious, blazing passion

will flow out of me lips,

The whole world will be like me at this moment - listening attentively.