John Milton (9 December 1608 – 8 November 1674) was an English poet, political commentator, and democracy fighter. Representative works include the long poems "Paradise Lost", "Paradise Fu" and "Lux Samson". In 1625, Milton entered cambridge and began writing poetry. After graduating from university, he studied literature for another 6 years. In 1638, Milton traveled to Europe. When the English Revolution broke out in 1640, Milton resolutely threw himself into the revolutionary movement and published five pamphlets on religious freedom, and in 1644, Milton wrote "On freedom of the press" for freedom of speech. In 1649, after the victory of the revolution, England established a republic, and Milton published articles such as "On the Authority of Kings and Officials" to consolidate the revolutionary power. In 1660, after the restoration of the English feudal dynasty, Milton was imprisoned and soon released, after which he devoted himself to writing poetry. He died on 8 November 1674. Milton was a great artist in British history and is known as one of the six great poets in the history of English literature.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="65" > the most recent Peimengdui massacre</h1>
Revenge, Lord! The saints suffered a great tribulation,
White bones scattered across the cold alpine summits;
When our ancestors worshipped wood and stone,
They have believed in your pure word;
Don't forget them: record their moans,
Your flock of lambs, by the bloody piles of men
Slaughtered in the old sheep pen, the murderers took the mother
Even the baby fell off the rock. Their lamentations
From the valley to the peaks, and then to the heavens.
Please sow the flesh and blood of the martyrs in Italy
The whole land, despite the triple crown of tyrants
Still ruling Italy: seeds will multiply,
Become a million people, understand your true meaning,
They will avoid Babylonian demise early.
(Translated by Tu An)
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="65" > my blindness</h1>
I think of it this way: the end and half of life are already there
Lost in the darkness of the vast world,
At the same time, the talent that does not use it is equivalent to death
It is no longer useful to me, even though my soul prefers it
Use it to serve the God who made me and give
My heart, otherwise he looked back and reprimanded—
So I asked, "God doesn't give light. But they want people
Working during the day? But patience came to stop it
This complaint replied, "God does not force man to work,
Nor do they take back the gift: who is most receptive
He is gentle and restrained, and whoever serves best:
He is mighty and eminent, and he commands thousands of angels to run,
Drive across land and sea without stopping:-
Those who only stand and stand by are also serving. ”
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="65" > I seem to see</h1>
It was as if I saw My holy bride
Pale and faint, returning from the hands of death,
It is as if he was recaptured by the great son of Zeus—
Arctis came to see her happy husband.
My bride is redeemed according to the ancient law,
Washed away the filth of the bedding by the purification sacrifice,
As I am convinced, I will have another chance
See her in heaven, clear and unrestrained,
She came in a white robe, as pure as her heart
She was veiled, but I fantasized about the vision
Seeing her shine with love, sweetness and goodness,
No one else's face will have greater joy.
But the moment she wanted to hug me, I woke up
She disappeared, and the day brought me back to the night.
(Fei Bai translation)
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="65" > appeal to the light</h1>
I can visit you safely again, (1)
Feel your constant light; but oh,
These two eyes have nothing to do with you; they are all turned,
I want to see the sky, but I don't see a glimmer of light;
It is an internal barrier that blocks the image of the eye,
Or the mist obscures the light. But I don't
Just wander in the wonderland where the poetry god roams;
I still love the fountain in poetry,
MaoLin, the sunny slopes; yet every night
But I am mainly looking for you (2), mount Gao and down the mountain
Wash your holy feet of the flowing water? target
Hundred Flowers Creek Spring; I think of it from time to time
Those two poets who suffered the same fate as me
(I wish I could share their reputation too),
Blind Semiris (3) and Mionidis (4),
Also reminds of the ancient prophets Dirisias, Fenis;
Then I contemplate the beauty that can be stirred up
The sentiments of the verses; like the sleepless bird,
Singing in secret, in the depths of the woods,
Try to play nocturne. So, every year
The seasons rotate, but I am here forever
It is not the turn of day, the beautiful morning light and twilight,
Or the prosperity of spring, the roses of early summer,
Or herds, herds, or the beautiful countenance of human beings;
On the contrary, I was surrounded by dark clouds
and the darkness that never dissipates, the intercourse between the world,
Have been cut off from me, and the books of knowledge have been closed,
A natural phenomenon, as if smeared in front of your eyes,
Dazed, just like wordless paper,
The gate of wisdom has been tightened.
Therefore, the Divine Light has to please you
Shine inside me and make my inner qualities
Brilliant and glowing; please plant your eyes here,
Dispel the cloud barrier from here; I can do that
See and tell a picture that mortals can't see.
concentrate:
(1) The poet, who was originally describing hell, is now beginning to describe the human world, so he appeals to the god of poetry (you) and asks him for help.
(2) The god of poetry mentioned here is Urania, the god of poetry; He lived in the holy land of Jerusalem.
(3) Poets in mythology.
(4) i.e. Homer.
(5) That is, the nightingale.
(Translated by Yin Baoshu)
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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".