Ralph Waldo Emerson (25 May 1803 – 27 April 1882) was born in Boston, United States. American thinker, writer, poet. Emerson was a representative of the american cultural spirit and the most outstanding spokesman for New England transcendentalism. U.S. President Abraham Lincoln called him "the Confucius of America" and the "Father of American Civilization." Representative works "On Nature", American Scholar. Among them, "On Nature" is considered the Bible of New England Transcendentalism, while "American Scholars" is hailed as "the declaration of independence in the field of American thought and culture."
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="5" > days</h1>
Daughter of time, days of hypocrisy,
Wrapped in a turban, silent like a barefoot dancer*.
They are lined up in an endless line,
With a crown and a bundle of firewood in his hand,
Give gifts according to people's wishes:
Bread, kingdoms, stars and a sky dome full of stars.
I saw their queue in the leafy garden,
I forgot the wish I had made in the morning, in a hurry
Picked some vanilla and a few apples, days
Turned around and left in silence. It's too late --
Under her gloomy headband, I saw contempt.
.
exegesis:
*Dervishes, a branch of Muslims, is characterized by asceticism and wild dancing, thereby entering the mysterious state of out-of-body experience.
1851
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="171" > natural</h1>
Surrounded by the mystery of the Nine Folds,
The world looks more beautiful:
Although the confused prophet could not be passed
It runs the secret of endless operation,
But if your heart beats with nature,
Everything unfolds, from west to east.
The spirit lurks in every form
All call for the response of the same kind of spirit;
Every atom ignites itself,
A glimpse of its future trajectory is looming.
1844
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="172" > a snowstorm</h1>
All the trumpets in the sky are announcing
The snow comes, it flies in the wilderness,
As if there were nowhere to land: dense flakes of snow
Hidden mountains, woods, rivers and skies,
Also shaded the farmhouse at the end of the garden.
The traveler stopped the sleigh, and the postman delayed
On the way, friends also did not come to visit, a family
Sit around the bright fireplace and shut it up
A private world separated by a storm of hustle and bustle.
Come and admire the stonemason craftsmanship of the North Wind.
This berserk craftsman, its quarry
Bricks and tiles are inexhaustible, everywhere to the wind
The stakes, the trees and the gates were turned into white fortresses,
It was added to the roof that protruded outwards.
Its thousands of hands waved swiftly
Fantastic and barbaric works, do not care at all
Grammar and proportions. He also mischievously
Hang white garlands on chicken coops and kennels,
Turn hidden thorns into the shape of swans;
He also ignored the sighs of the peasants and went from house to house
Fill the village path and at the door again
Build a minaret and place it on top of the work.
When he took the whole world for himself, he was there
The predestined hour withdrew, as if it had never come,
When the sun appeared, the "art" of consternation could only be
Slowly imitating, stone by stone,
Use an era to replicate the wind for one night
On the finished building: the game of snow.
1835
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="173" > compensation</h1>
Why can I watch the sun at leisure,
Others don't have such leisure?
Of course, because they are happy,
I sat alone in the shadow of pain.
Why are the delighted people so full of mouths,
But I'm going to be dumb like a grave?
yes! Before I preached, they were silent,
Now it was their turn to speak.
1834
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="174" > Rhododendron Someone asked, where do the flowers come from? </h1>
In May, when the sea breeze pierces our loneliness,
A fresh cuckold of cuckoos made me stop in the woods.
Leafless flowers spread out in damp corners,
The wilderness and the sluggish streams also felt love.
Purple petals, floating in the pond,
Adds a bit of brightness to the dark water,
Cardinals may come here to comb their wings,
Even if the flower makes it feel ashamed of itself.
What a cuckoo! If the wise man asks you, such a view
Why leave it to the sky and the earth that will not be appreciated,
Tell them, if God made eyes for the sake of seeing,
Then beauty is the reason for its own existence:
Why are you here, rose-like charming flowers?
I never wanted to ask you, and I don't know the answer;
However, I have a simple idea in my ignorance:
It is the power that led me to bring you into the world.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="175" > individual and whole</h1>
The farmer in the field dressed in red had no idea
You are looking out from the top of a high mountain;
The sound of cows came from afar on the hilly farms,
But it's not about winning your heart;
The priest of the church rings the bell at noon
Napoleon would not have thought of the mighty Napoleon
Standing by the horse road, listening happily,
When his procession swept to the summit of the Alps;
You also don't know the mood of your daily life
How to quietly change the neighbor's beliefs.
Each individual is associated with another individual,
There is no isolated beauty, no isolated goodness.
At dawn, the sparrows sing on the branches of the alder,
I feel like its music comes from heaven;
At dusk, I brought the sparrow back to its nest,
The same song can no longer give me joy,
Because I can't take back the river and the sky—
The eyes, not the ears, are their listeners.
Exquisite shells lie on the beach;
Every wave comes with bubbles,
all decorated with pearls in their glazes,
The sea was rough and tumbling, as if trying to block it
They escaped safely to me.
I wiped off the foam and aquatic weeds on it,
Bring back to your home treasures that were born in the sea;
And those plain-looking shells
Can only continue to accompany the sun on the beach,
Gravel and the hustle and bustle of the wind and waves.
The lover looks at his elegant bride,
Slowly marching on the way to send relatives,
He didn't know her most beautiful dress
It is the foil for the snow-white choir.
When she finally came to his house,
Like a bird in the woods locked in a cage—
The fantastic magic disappeared suddenly,
Gentle and considerate, it is no longer attractive.
So I said, "I long for the truth;
And beauty is just a toy of youthful childhood;
I left it with the games I had as a child. ”——
I'm saying, where I'm standing,
The beautiful vines of the cypress gather,
Wrapped around the edges of stone pine;
I breathe in the fragrance of violet,
Around stood oaks and spruce trees;
Pine cones and acorns fell to the ground;
The eternal sky hovers overhead,
Filled with light and the will of God;
I see it again, I hear it again
The flowing river and the birds in the morning—
Beauty creeps through my senses,
I dissipated in this perfect whole.
Focus on reading and sleeping, poetic inhabitation
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Facing the sea, look for light with black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "giving voice to grassroots poets" as its mission and carries forward the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of the truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, and the spiritual pleasure of poetry. He has published a collection of poems co-authored by poets, "Spring Warm Blossoms of Reading Sleeping Poems" and "Grass Long Warblers Flying in Reading Sleeping Poems".
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Reading Sleeping Poems Reading Sleeping Poems Selected Spring Warm Flowers Blooming Grass Long Warblers Fly Two Compilations Reading Sleep Poetry Society Produced by ¥100 Purchase