Paul Verlaine (1844-1896) was a French poet. He was the early leader of the Symbolist faction. Symbolists, trying to separate poetry from traditional subjects and forms. Verlaine's poetry is known for its elegance, refinement, and musicality. He was born in Metz and was heavily influenced by the young poet Arthur Rimbaud while in Paris in 1871. Separated from his wife, he and Rimbaud lived a life of debauchery and became alcoholics. In 1873, he shot and injured Rimbaud during an argument with him and was sentenced to two years in prison. His writings include: Poems of the Arsonians (1866), Song of Beauty (1870), Wisdom (1881), Past (1884), and Parallel (1889).
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="200" > sunset</h1>
The dawn of powerlessness
Bring the melancholy of the setting sun
Pour in
Tanogami face.
This melancholy
With gentle songs
Soothe my heart, heart
Forgotten in the sunset.
Bizarre dreams
It's like
Sunset on the beach.
Red ghost
Keep moving forward
Moving forward, it's like
That's above the beach
Huge sunset.
.
Translated by Xiao Yue
< h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="199" > serenade</h1>
Like the dead, in the deep heart of the grave
Singing the song of silence,
Lover, please listen to my hoarse voice
Crawl towards your home.
Please open your soul and ears to greet
The sound of the mandolin:
This song is written for you, for you
Cruel and infatuated.
I sing your eyes, sunny and pure
Like agate gold,
Your arms seem to forget the river, black hair
It's like the Styx is deep.
Of course, I want to praise it to the fullest
My beloved body,
Its rich aroma always makes me miss it
In the sleepless night.
At the end of the song, I'll also depict it
Your lips your kiss,
They ravage me, but they intoxicate me
- Angels! foe!
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="198" > sentimental dialogue</h1>
Old garden, cold, lonely,
Two shadows had just passed by there.
Their eyes are hollow, their lips are dry,
The voice is ethereal and almost difficult to capture.
Old garden, lonely, cold,
The two ghosts reminisced about the past.
- Do you remember those happy times?
Why do you want me to think back?
- Your heart still calls my name?
Your dreams are still open for my soul? - Nope.
- Ah! Those beautiful days are difficult to describe,
How intimate our lips have been! - Maybe.
- How blue the sky was then, and how brilliant the hope was!
- Hope has been dashed and he has fled into darkness.
They walked into the barren oat bushes,
Only the silent night continued to listen.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="197" > dusk on a mysterious night</h1>
Memories accompany the twilight
Red and trembling in the fiery sky
Burning hope receded
Growing up, it's like a block
Mysterious walls, there, countless flowers
- Dahlia, Lily, Tulip, Mao Gun -
Standing around the fence, emitting
Heavy, warm floral scent
Sick breath, that evil smell
Flooded my senses, soul and intellect
In a huge fainting, mixed in,
Accompanied by twilight memories.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="196" > distress</h1>
The bright red echo of the Sicilian pastoral song,
Fertile fields, tragic sunsets,
And the brilliantly colored glow,
Nature, you have nothing to stir my heart.
I laugh at art, and I laugh at people,
Mockery of Greek temples, mockery of songs and poems,
Mock the swirling tower of the church, which stands in the sky,
I looked at the good guys and the bad guys with the same eyes.
I don't believe in God, I give up and deny
All thoughts, as for the ancient irony,
Love, I wish I didn't talk about it again.
My soul is tired of life, but I am afraid of death, just like that
Toys of the tide, boats buried in the sea,
It sailed out to sea to meet the terrible shipwreck.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="195" > I don't know why</h1>
I don't know why
My agonistic spirit
Spread your wings of trepidation and madness and fly on the sea.
All this is very precious to me,
With a wing of fear
My love clings to the wave and will guard it. Why? Why?
Seagulls, flying in sorrow and confusion,
Chasing the waves, my thoughts
Also flying with the wind on the turbulent sea,
The tides are rough and the sea and sky are tilted.
Seagulls, flying in sorrow and confusion.
Intoxicated in the sun,
Take off in freedom,
An instinct guided him through the vast expanse of the sky.
The japanese wind of summer
Skimming over the reddish waves
Gently bring it into the warm hazy world.
Sometimes, it also makes a terrible cry,
Alarm for the pilot in the distance,
Then he fell into the wind and glided and flew
Drilled into the valley of the waves, and injured the wings,
Take off again, and scream again!
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="171" > in prison</h1>
The sky, it crosses the roof,
How quiet, how green!
A tree, on that roof
thriving.
A bell, to the blue sky
Slowly ringing,
A bird, at the tip of a green tree
Sing quietly.
Oh my God! This is life,
Quiet, simple.
A wave of peace, hidden
From sincerity.
How are you, ah, you are here
Zero all day long——
How do you, say, wear and tear
Your youth?
Focus on reading and sleeping, poetic inhabitation
(The mini program has been added here, please go to today's headline client to view)
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".