yònghù:  mìmǎ:  zìdòng   wàngmì zhùcèzhùcè
博客群博客群    博客新闻博客新闻   chángjiànwèntíyǔjiědáchángjiànwèntíyǔjiědá   
sōusuǒsōusuǒ    chéngyuánlièbiǎochéngyuánlièbiǎo    chéngyuánzǔchéngyuánzǔ    zhàoxiāngbùzhàoxiāngbù 
 shùxíngzhùtíhéngdànyǎ
běiměifēng shǒuyè -> 西方文学 Western Literature fābiǎoxīntiè   huífùtièzǐ
A Miniature Landscape
mahuairong
童生


zhùcèshíjiān: 2008-07-19
tièzǐ: 51
láizì: Qingdao China
mahuairongběiměifēngwénjí
tièzǐfābiǎoyú: 2008-07-30 17:11:20    fābiǎozhùtí: A Miniature Landscape yǐnyòngbìnghuífù

Born and brought up in remote mountains
Graceful, gracious and elegant
Virtue of both sexes you possess
You must have grown from a noble strain.

Hegel drove you out of his course and class.
And his shabby followers neglect your value.
But artists and collectors hold you in reverence.
At the cost of perfection is protected your virtue.

You became what you are after a second death
The cruelest torture upon skin and flesh
From a cutting truck you moved onto a carpenter’s desk..
But you never will a donation of murdered remains.

We met on a nice morning at a suburban fair
On the banks along the streams of July water
Like a beauty who were to marry
Without my knowledge but you arrested my stare.

I am neither an aesthete nor an artist.
You became my hostess quite by accident
Pity for the house maids old and young
I bought you at the risk of a population peddler.

Hardly had we spent our honeymoon
Before you became sick and weak and you departed
Your destiny awakened my conscience in dream
At miseries of all the maids my heart broke.

Without dirge and funeral rites and burial
You remain on my balcony quietly and lonely
Whenever something good occur in real life
I recall your sacrifice and sacredness.

I have no idea of your value and virtue
Until one day I get to know the ruin of the word flora.
From a stump two twigs sprout and blossom.
no seed, one tumor to produce another.

Your twigs toss freely as if they are pigtails
Like a free-spirited lass you tell the romance
To stir the imagination of Saint Joan of Arc
To have stumped and stopped many a foreign invader.

You were doomed to die in the spring of opening-up
For nearly all the mountains and rivers were sold out.
While you were chopped by a blind foreigner
Seeing your pains the heavens were filled with tears

Years passed and the village was flooded.
Barren land up faces the grey hollow firmament.
When protectors of the environment came to investigate
Under convex lens your value and virtue are recorded.
_________________
You see me, you lose me
fǎnyèshǒu
yuèlǎnchéngyuánzīliào fāsòngsīrénliúyán
cóngyǐqiándetièzǐkāishǐxiǎnshì:   
biǎoqíngtúàn
Very Happy Smile Sad Surprised
Shocked Confused Cool Laughing
Mad Razz Embarassed Crying or Very sad
Evil or Very Mad Twisted Evil Rolling Eyes Wink
Exclamation Question Idea Arrow
gèngduōbiǎoqíngtúàn
1yè/gòng1yè           yuèdúshàngyīgèzhùtí yuèdúxiàyīgèzhùtí    
běiměifēng shǒuyè -> 西方文学 Western Literature    fābiǎoxīntiè   huífùtièzǐ
tiàodào:  
凡在本网站发表作品,即视为向《北美枫》杂志投稿。作品版权归原作者,观点与网站无关。请勿用于商业,宗教和政治。严禁人身攻击。管理员有权删除作品。上传图片,版权自负。未经许可,请勿转载。