juliejin（金培）
THE GENESIS OF BUTTERFLIES by: Victor Hugo (1802-1885) HE dawn is smiling on the dew that covers The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings, That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide, With muffled music, murmured far and wide. Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays, Of the fond hearts within a billet bound, Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound, The messages of love that mortals write Filled with intoxication of delight, Written in April and before the May time Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime, We dream that all white butterflies above, Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love, And leave their lady mistress in despair, To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair, Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies.
文姐吉祥
THE GENESIS OF BUTTERFLIES by: Victor Hugo (1802-1885) HE dawn is smiling on the dew that covers The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings, That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide, With muffled music, murmured far and wide. Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays, Of the fond hearts within a billet bound, Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound, The messages of love that mortals write Filled with intoxication of delight, Written in April and before the May time Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime, We dream that all white butterflies above, Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love, And leave their lady mistress in despair, To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair, Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies. This English translation of "The Genesis of Butterflies" was composed by Andrew Lang (1844-1912). THE POOR CHILDREN by: Victor Hugo (1802-1885) TAKE heed of this small child of earth; He is great; he hath in him God most high. Children before their fleshly birth Are lights alive in the blue sky. In our light bitter world of wrong They come; God gives us them awhile. His speech is in their stammering tongue, And his forgiveness in their smile. Their sweet light rests upon our eyes. Alas! their right to joy is plain. If they are hungry Paradise Weeps, and, if cold, Heaven thrills with pain. The want that saps their sinless flower Speaks judgment on sin's ministers. Man holds an angel in his power. Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs, When God seeks out these tender things Whom in the shadow where we sleep He sends us clothed about with wings, And finds them ragged babes that weep! This English translation of "The Poor Children" was composed by Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909).
心之愿c
主要作品: 1827: 《克伦威尔》(Cromwell) (剧本) 1829:《东方诗集》(les Orientales) (诗) 1830:《欧那尼》 (Hernani) (戏本) 1831:《钟楼怪人》(Notre-Dame de Paris) (小说) 1838:《吕布拉》(Ruy Blas) (剧本) 1853:《惩罚集》 (les Chatiments) (诗) 1856:《沉思集》 (les Contemplations) (诗) 1862:《悲惨世界》(les Miserables) (小说) 1869:《笑面人》 (L’Homme qui Rit) (小说) 1859-1883:《世纪传说》(la Legende des siecles) (诗) 1874:《九三年》 (Quatre-Vingt-Treize) (小说)
士多啤梨cake
01、月光02、期待03、心愿04、啊，我的情书05、“当每天黄昏……”06、海滨07、“既然我把唇……”08、赠朱丽叶09、致奥林匹欧10、六月之夜11、“明天天一亮……”12、皇袍13、晨星14、播种季节的晚上
晴朗天空85
THE GENESIS OF BUTTERFLIESby: Victor Hugo (1802-1885)HE dawn is smiling on the dew that coversThe tearful roses; lo, the little loversThat kiss the buds, and all the flutteringsIn jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,With muffled music, murmured far and wide.Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the laysThat dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,The messages of love that mortals writeFilled with intoxication of delight,Written in April and before the May timeShredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime,We dream that all white butterflies above,Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,And leave their lady mistress in despair,To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,Are but torn love-letters, that through the skiesFlutter, and float, and change to butterflies
