Robert Frost，1874-1963
Enter the self
One of my heart's desires is the dark woods,
The simple and vigorous, soft wind that is difficult to blow into the woods,
It's not just a dark disguise that it seems,
but it should be stretched and continued until the earth is desolate.
I shouldn't have been suppressed anymore, but one day
I should slip away quietly, into the woods,
At no time is he afraid to see the vastness of the open space,
Or a road where the wheels slowly sprinkle sand grains.
I don't see any reason to go back.
I don't know those friends who are still thinking about me at this moment,
Those who wonder if I remember their friends,
Why don't you follow in my footsteps and catch me up?
They'll find that I'm the same, I'm still myself—
It's just that I am more convinced that everything I think about is the truth.
Araya
I live in a deserted hut,
I know that the hut disappeared many years ago,
At that time, only the broken walls of the cellar remained,
The dilapidated cellar can let in the sunlight during the day,
Wild purple-stemmed raspberries also grow.
Over the remnants of the fence covered by the vines,
The woods have been revived in their former pastures;
The stump of the fruit tree has grown into a new forest,
There is the sound of woodpeckers pecking at the wood in the new orchard;
The trail leading to the well has also been restored.
With a strange pain in my heart,
I live in the house that once disappeared,
The hut is far from the forgotten road,
The road no longer kicks up dust for toads.
When night falls, black bats leap around;
The three nighthawks will begin to cry,
It flickers and whistles, and flapps its wings and circles;
Far away I heard it raise its voice,
Over and over again,
Until it finally spoke freely.
It was a summer night, and the moon was cloudy.
I don't know who these silent neighbors are,
Though they dwell with me in this wilderness—
But there are definitely names that are covered in moss
The tombstones carved out of the house under the bushes.
They won't be annoying, but they're sad,
But the last two are girls and boys-
They don't have a story to tell,
But considering the many things in this world,
They are the cutest pair of companions.
Late autumn visitors
When my sorrows come as guests,
She felt that the autumn rain was cloudy
More beautiful than ever;
She likes dead branches that have lost their leaves,
She loves to walk the wet pasture paths.
Her joy is not to be suppressed.
She loves to talk and I love to listen:
She likes the birds to fly south,
She loves her earthy grey sweater
Stained silver by the mist that can't be removed.
She felt so truly beautiful,
From the fading of the earth, from the gloom of the heavens,
From the loneliness of the trees, from the desolation of the forest.
She thought I couldn't see the beauty of autumn,
And repeatedly asked what the reason was.
I didn't just learn it yesterday
Before the winter snowflakes fall
The loveliness of this bleak autumn scene,
But telling her that won't help,
Her compliments make the autumn scenery even better.
Love and a conundrum
At dusk a stranger came to the door,
Greet the bridegroom in the house.
He had a gray-green cane in his hand,
He was so preoccupied that he frowned.
He uses his eyes, not his lips
begging for him to stay overnight,
Then he turned around and looked far off the road,
There were no lights flashing in the twilight.
The bridegroom walked out of the house to the porch,
Say "Guest, let me and you."
Let's take a look at the sky tonight,
Then we will discuss the overnight stay."
The fallen leaves of wisteria have spread all over the courtyard,
The pods on the vine also turned purple,
There is already a taste of winter in the autumn wind;
"Guest, I wish I could be sure."
The bride was sitting in a dimly lit room,
Leaning over the warm fire alone,
Her face was flushed with fire,
What made her blush was the desire of her heart.
The bridegroom looked at the weary way,
But he saw the bride in the house,
He really wanted to put her heart in a gold box,
Then lock it with a silver lock.
Should we give money and bread or not?
or pray earnestly for the poor,
or curse the rich of the world,
The groom thinks none of them matter;
And a man should not allow it
His wedding night was disturbed,
Let the new house have a potential bane,
The bridegroom wished he knew.
Twilight stroll
I walked through the harvested pastures,
But see the stubble of the new grass that grows
Like a thatched roof with dew smooth and flat,
Half-covered path to the garden.
When I walked into the garden,
Suddenly I heard a bleak birdsong
Out of the tangled dead grass,
More mournful than any voice.
An old bare tree stands next to the wall,
There was only a dead leaf left on the tree,
The lonely leaf must have been disturbed by my contemplation,
Swinging and falling downward.
I didn't go far before I stopped,
From the withering purple flower aster
Pick a small blue flower,
To dedicate the flowers to you again.
Fear of the storm
When the storm is against us in darkness,
When this beast clung to the snow
Constantly banging on the east window of the low house
And with a suppressed voice
Barking:
"Done! ——
At this time, you have to go through an inner struggle to get out,
Ah, indeed!
I calculate our strength,
Two adults and one child,
We who don't sleep are holding back from noticing
How close is the cold crawling after the fire is extinguished—
How high the snow pile is outside,
Courtyard in front of the door and unpaved road,
Even the barn of comfort became distant,
Then a doubt arose in my mind:
Do we have the strength to rise with the sunrise?
And save yourself.
Wind with flowers on the windowsill
Lovers, forget your love,
Come and listen to this lovesickness,
She is a delicate flower on the windowsill,
He's a breeze in winter.
When ice and frost condense into a curtain
At noon the ice melts,
Goldfinch in a birdcage
Above her head chirped and chanted.
He looked at her through the glass,
I can't help myself, I can't help it,
At noon, I flew before her,
But as soon as it got dark, it flew again.
He is a cold wind in winter,
Concerned about snow and ice,
Concerned about the withered grass and the lonely bird,
But he barely knows love.
But he sighed on the windowsill,
He gently shook the window,
Inside she witnessed everything,
Because she couldn't sleep all night.
Maybe he almost made it
persuaded her to elope with him,
From the warm stove,
From the mirror where the firelight shines.
But the flower leaned only slightly,
Can't think of what to say,
And when the dawn comes,
The wind had already blown a hundred miles.
Kasuga Prayer
Oh, let us rejoice among the flowers of this day;
Don't let our thoughts drift so far away,
Don't think about the unknown gains;
It's the time of year when everything grows.
Oh, let us rejoice in the white groves,
Let the day be incomparable, and the night like a fairy;
Let's be merry in the swarm of happy bees,
Swarms of bees are buzzing around the beautiful trees.
Ah, let us be happy in the flock of birds that are flying,
Suddenly the birdsong above the swarm could be heard,
Suddenly, he cut through the air with his beak and fell like a meteor,
Suddenly, it was quietly in the air like a tree and flowers.
For this is love, the only love in the world,
is the love that is destined to be made holy by God,
God sanctifies this love for His great desires,
But this love and wish need us to make it happen.
await
- A piece of land in the twilight
Something will fall into dreams when I'm like a ghost
Floating over the tall haystacks hastily stacked,
Alone in the land where there is only grass and stubble,
The land where the voice of the lawnmower has just disappeared,
In the afterglow of the setting sun,
Sit down in the light of the rising full moon
Next to the first haystack sprinkled with moonlight,
Hidden in the middle of countless identical haystacks.
I would dream that before the moon prevailed,
The sunlight, which is opposed to the moonlight, prevents the gloom;
I will dream that nighthawks fill the whole sky,
hovering around each other, making terrible strange noises,
or screaming and swooping down from a height;
I'll dream of bats performing a burlesque pantomime,
The bat seems to have discovered my hiding place,
Lose the target only when it spins,
Then he searched blindly and hastely;
I would dream of the last swallow passing by;
Behind me, interrupted by my arrival
The chirping of insects in the depths of the aroma
After a moment of silence, he tried his voice again,
One, two, three to see if I'm still there;
I would dream of the old "English Poetry Vault",
I didn't bring it with me, but it seemed to be at hand.
It is clearly visible in the air filled with the scent of dead grass;
But I most likely dream of an absent person,
These lines of poetry are meant to be presented before her eyes.
In a valley
When I was younger, I lived in a valley,
Beside the swamp that is foggy and loud all night,
So I'm familiar with those beautiful maidens,
Pale girls often drag their skirts
Walk through the reeds to a window of light.
There are all kinds of wildflowers in the swamps,
Each one is like a girl's face,
Like a voice that rings in my room,
The sound of darkness coming through the window outside.
Each one comes from her place alone,
But they all come in the mist every night;
often brings a lot of news,
They contend with the important things they know,
A loner is so fond of listening,
I often hear that the stars are almost gone,
The last girl will disclose the return,
Dressed in morning dew and returning to where she came—
There are hundreds of birds waiting to vibrate,
There are flowers waiting to bloom,
The birds and flowers are all exactly the same.
That's why I know that
Why are the flowers fragrant, why are the birds chirping?
Just ask me, and I'll tell you.
yes, I didn't live there alone in vain,
It was not in vain to listen attentively in the long night.
Pain in dreams
I've long since taken refuge in the forest, and my songs
It always swallows up the leaves that are blown away by the wind;
One day you came to the edge of the forest
(It's a dream) and looked around and pondered for a long time,
You wanted to go into the forest, but you didn't,
You shake your head apprehensively, as if to say:
"I don't dare— his footsteps are too far off—
If he is lost, he will come to me. ”
Not far away, I was standing behind a low tree,
See everything outside the forest clearly;
Can't tell you what I see is still there,
It made me feel a sharp pain.
But it's not true that I'm so isolated,
Because the forest will wake up, you are here.
Being overlooked
They left us in the way we chose,
As two people who have proven to be misunderstood by them,
We sometimes like to sit on the side of the road and look out,
With a mischievous, innocent, wandering gaze,
See if we can feel that we haven't been abandoned.
Location
If I get tired of the tree, I'll go to someone again,
I know where to go—at dawn
Go to a slope where cattle guard the grass.
Reclining in a forest of juniper trees with low hanging branches,
No one else can see me, but I can see from afar
Far away from people's places, look farther away,
Look at the graves in the white realm on the opposite hill,
Neither the living nor the dead will have an opinion on this.
If I've seen enough of this at noon,
Then I'll just change my arm and lean on it, you see,
The sun bakes the hot hillside and makes my face feverish,
My breath is like a breeze that makes the wildflowers shake their heads,
I can smell the earth and the grass,
You can see the ants inside from the mouth of the anthill hole.
启示
Behind Noelm's mocking words,
We always like to leave something beyond words,
But before others really understand,
We always feel anxious in our hearts.
If the situation requires it (let's assume)
In order to make it clear to friends when they hear it,
We end up just talking straight,
Again, this is regrettable.
But all the same, from a distant God
To kids who love to play hide and seek,
If they hide too secretly,
You can only say to yourself where you are hiding.
A test of survival
Even the bravest people who died on the battlefield
I don't hide the surprise in their hearts
When they wake up they find themselves in heavenly wonderland
and reign by courage as in the world;
They searched in heaven with their bare hands
The plain where the ivy blooms forever,
It turned out to be the highest reward for bravery
It's still brave who is not afraid of anything.
The light that shines upon heaven is the complete white light,
Never decomposes into red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple,
The light of heaven is always the dawn of dawn;
The hillsides are as verdant and green as pastures;
Groups of lively angels come and go,
Laughing and looking for something that can be bravely faced-
The silent snow and ice are all in the way,
Blocked the surging waves in the distance.
A call came from the top of the cliff,
Announcing the collection of souls, ready to be reborn,
This regeneration is called a survival test.
The most puzzling thing in the world.
but the souls that fell into the crowd,
Souls that come and go endlessly,
I can only listen to the pleasant voice,
I want to hear what dreams it suggests!
More geyers will be turned around,
Again, those souls made sacrifices,
They're for some known blessing,
will willingly give up this kingdom of heaven.
A group of souls that glow white
Like a tidal wave to the throne of God,
See with your own eyes what God is most favored
Those pious souls hand in good luck.
Only willing souls are chosen,
When those souls first heard the announcement
The world is intertwined with the survival of misfortune and blessing,
There will not be the slightest doubt in my mind;
God put the ephemeral dream of human existence
It's perfectly depicted and full of warmth,
But there is nothing to weaken or dilute
The supreme feature of Heavenly Paradise.
There is no shortage of brave men in the soul group,
There was a soul stupidly who stepped forward,
Face the farthest reaches of the earth
Naked heroism.
Those very unseemly things under the sun
It sounds nobler there than the world;
Then his mind was darkened, and his heart rejoiced,
众灵魂齐声为那勇敢者喝彩。
But in the end, it is usually God who speaks:
"This brave man may have a memory,
Thinking of the pain of conflict and strife,
He had chosen a way to survive for his friends;
But you will accept the pure fate
Memories that do not allow any choice,
Otherwise, suffering would not be the suffering of the world,
Not the suffering that you all agree on in unison. ”
So the choice must be remade,
But the final choice remains the same as before;
At this time awe is more than amazement,
The cheers turned into silence.
And God has plucked a golden flower,
Break it and use the magic ring in the flower
Tie the soul and make it have
Hallucinatory consciousness until death comes.
This is the essence of life in the world.
While we all choose very seriously,
But there is still a lack of clear and lasting memory,
We can't remember our life of suffering
It's just an inexplicable choice for us;
And so we're completely deprived of our self-esteem.
In the agony of having only one ending
We allow our lives to be smashed and bewildered.
The laughter of the Creator
It was in the unchanging forest in the distance,
I glad to find the trail of the Creator,
But I know I'm not looking for the true God.
Just as the daylight began to fade
Suddenly I heard all that I had to hear;
That voice has been with me for many years.
The voice was behind me, not in front,
It's a lazy but half-mocking voice,
It's as if the voice doesn't care about anything.
The demigod emerged from the mire and laughed,
Wipe the sludge off his eyes as he walks;
And I fully understood the meaning of his laughter.
I can't forget how his laughter came out.
Being bumped into by him made me feel like an idiot,
So I stopped abruptly, and pretended,
Pretend to be looking for something among the fallen leaves
(But I don't know if he ignored me at the time.)
Then I sat down against a tree.
Please close the windows now
Now close the windows and let the wilderness fall silent;
If the trees are to sway, let them shake silently;
There will be no more birdsong at the moment, in case there is,
Just count it as my loss.
It will be a long time before the swamp recovers,
It will be much later before the earliest birds fly back;
So please close the windows and don't listen to the wind,
Just watch everything shake in the wind.
In broad-leaved forests
Layer upon layer of the same dead leaves!
They fall down from the thick shade overhead,
Clothed the earth with a garment of faded gold,
Just like leather, it fits perfectly.
Before the new leaves climb up to the branches again,
Before the green leaves shade the trunks again,
The withered leaves have to fall, and the seeds of the soil are floated through,
The dead leaves fall and fall into decaying darkness.
腐叶定将被花籽的萌芽顶穿，
The rotten leaves will be buried under the roots of the flower.
Although this happened in another world,
But I know that the human world is like that.
Song of the Storm
The shattered clouds of the storm are racing.
The road is deserted all day long,
Countless white stones on the pavement are raised,
Hoopage marks are gone.
The wildflowers on the roadside are too damp, and the bees don't pick them,
Spend your gorgeous youth in vain.
走过小山来吧，随我去远方，
Come into the wind and rain and be my lover.
In the despair of the forest world being torn apart
The birds almost stopped singing,
At this moment the noise is those thousand-year-old elves,
Although the birds still roost in the forest;
The song of the forest was all torn apart, like
The devastating wild rose withered.
Come into this damp forest, be my love,
Here the foliage is dripping, when the storm comes.
A strong wind is driving behind us,
The wind will spread our songs,
A pool of shallow water rippled by a strong wind,
Lift up your tumbling dress.
What does it matter if we go straight to the west?
Even if your shoes and socks get water stains?
Because the dripping chrysanthemum - the brooch of the wild
will wet your beautiful chest.
The devastating east wind has never been so strong,
But this seems to be the time of returnees,
The sea returns to the ancient land, in ancient times
The sea leaves shell scales here.
It also seems like a moment of love returning,
After doubts, our love awakens.
Oh, come, into this storm and tumult,
Come into the wind and rain and be my lover.
unwilling
I have passed through the fields and the woods,
I have crossed those stone walls,
I've climbed the heights with a wide view,
After seeing the world and stepping down the hill,
I have returned home along the main road,
Lo and behold, everything has an end.
The leaves of the earth have withered,
Only some oak leaves still have branches,
Waiting to be blown off piece by piece,
Falling to the ground,
Slowly wipe over the frozen snow,
When other dead leaves are resting.
The dead leaves are silently squeezed into a ball,
Never again be blown away by the wind;
The last lonely aster has withered;
The flowers of witch hazel are also withered;
The heart is still struggling,
But the footsteps asked, "Which way to go?"
Alas, the time knows how to sail with pleasure,
Obey reason with dignity,
Whether it's love or season,
They all obey the destiny of heaven and accept reality,
I don't know what this is done in the hearts of the world
When is it not seen as a rebellion?