Problem description:
Someone gave me his Chinese translation! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Analysis:
Selected poems of thomas gray
Mourning in the cemetery
The evening bell rang in the waves to mourn the day,
Cattle roamed around the grassland, roaring up and down,
The tired plowman went home and stumbled,
Leave the whole world to dusk and me.
The vast scenery gradually disappeared from sight,
A solemn silence enveloped the whole world,
I only heard buzzing beetles circling,
Groggy * * * hypnotized the sheepfold in the distance.
I can only hear the ivy-covered tower bottom.
A gloomy owl complained to the moon,
Blame people for walking into its secret home for no reason,
Disturb its long and hidden territory.
Under the majestic elms, under the shade of cypress trees,
The turf swelled up many scattered mounds,
Everyone keeps his body in the cave forever,
The vulgar elders in the small village sleep there.
The fragrant morning breeze is easy to summon,
The chirping of swallows in thatched cottages,
The cock's sharp horn is called mountain crying and valley crying.
We can't wake them up underground.
In them, the fire will never burn again.
The busy housekeeper will no longer catch her night work;
Children will no longer report their father's arrival with fangs.
Climb on his knee and kiss him.
As usual, they are invincible as soon as they open the sickle.
Stubborn clay tablets let them plow out of the furrow;
How happy they are to drive the cows to the fields!
As soon as they cut it, the trees bowed their heads one by one!
Ambition doesn't laugh at their actual work,
Happy at home, unknown fate;
"Luxury" need not be sneered at.
Come and listen to the short stories of the poor and Jane's life.
Show off your family, be powerful,
All the benefits that beauty and wealth can bring,
Waiting for the inevitable moment ahead:
The glorious road is nothing more than the grave.
Proud people, don't blame these people for not doing it.
Niannian didn't build a memorial hall for these people.
No long corridors, carved vaults
Full of loud hymns, celebrating.
A lifelike bust, an urn tablet engraved with a short story,
Is it possible to bring the dead back to life and promote resurrection?
Can the sound of "honor" inspire the ashes of silence?
Can "flattery" soften the heart of death?
Maybe this place is barren,
Buried is a heart that was once full of spiritual flame;
A pair of hands could have been in charge of the imperial fluorene.
Or play the lyre selflessly.
But "knowledge" never extended to them.
It has accumulated a dazzling array of books from generation to generation;
"Poverty" suppressed their noble hearts,
Freezing their spring water from Fu Ling.
How many sparkling jewels are there in the world?
Buried in the dark and unfathomable seabed;
No one knows how many flowers are in full bloom in the world.
Dispel the fragrance into the desolate air in vain.
Maybe there's a rural Hampton buried here,
Resist local bullies, be bold and determined;
There may be Milton, who has never been famous;
There was a Cromwell who didn't let the country bleed.
In order to win the applause of the elders,
Ignoring threats, regardless of life and death,
Spread wealth and abundance everywhere,
Reading one's own history from the mocking eyes of the whole country-
Their fate is not allowed: neither is sin.
Indulge, don't play virtue;
Don't involve the throne in the killing.
Since then, the door of human nature has been closed;
Don't hide your inner attack on your conscience,
To hide naive shame, Tian doesn't blush;
Don't use the poet's golden flame to light incense.
Add icing on the cake and fill the shrine of "arrogance" and "luxury"
A conspiracy to stay away from different worlds,
They have sober desires and never learn to be confused.
Along the cool and quiet valley of life,
They stick to the right path of silence.
But in order to prevent these bones from being destroyed,
There are still fragile tablets nearby,
Decorated with poor rhymes and messy descriptions,
Begging passers-by to give a sigh.
The unknown wild poet wrote down his name, year,
Add the address and eulogy;
She spread some scriptures around,
Teach local moralists how to die.
Want to know who is willing to give up the speechless "forgetting",
I left my sad and happy life,
Who left a sunny day?
Can you barely look back for a while?
The dead soul still holds the arm of love,
Closing your eyes requires tears,
Even in the grave, there is a call sign of "nature"
Their old fire also ignited our new ashes.
As for you, I care about these silent dead people,
Tell their simple stories with these poems,
If, under the guidance of meditation, there is an accidental fate,
A traveling companion came to ask about your life-
Maybe a white-haired countryman will say to him:
"We often see him before dawn.
I knocked off the dew with my quick steps,
Go to the tall grass over there to meet the sunrise;
"There is a whirling old beech tree over there.
The old roots that grow under the tree are staggered.
He used to lie there for a noon,
Take a good look at a trickle next to it.
"He swam to the edge of the forest and sometimes smiled.
Read aloud, say his strange words,
Sometimes I feel depressed and helpless,
For example, worry or frustration in love.
"One morning, on the mountain where he used to go,
Bush, his love tree, I can't see him;
The next morning, although I walked along the stream,
On the grass, through the Woods, he still disappeared.
"On the third day, we saw the funeral procession.
Sing an elegy and take him to the cemetery-
Please come forward and look at the stone tablet under the old thorns.
(You can read) Please read these lines:
epitaph
Here, kneeling is a young man.
I have never been known for "wealth" and "fame" in my life;
"Knowledge" did not despise his humble origins,
"Clear sorrow" indicates that he is a personal feeling.
He is sincere in nature and most willing to give generously.
God also gave him the same generous return:
He gave "bumpy" everything, a drop of tears;
I got everything I wanted from God, a friend.
Don't try to praise his achievements,
Don't dig out his weakness from the dark cellar again.
They also rest in trembling hope.
It was the embrace of his heavenly father and God.