Romowe Rikoito

Her lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree, While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell Between its chords; and as the wild notes swell, The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea. But to what sound her listening ear stoops she? What nethe

Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom Gods and men and beasts have birth, Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine. If with mists of evening dew Thou dost nourish t

Let us go then, you and I When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurant

Children's voices in the garden
 between the blossom and the fruit time: 
golden head, crimson head,
 between the green tip and the root
 black wing, brown wing, hover over
 twenty years, the spring is over
 today grieves, tomorrow grieves,
 cover me

On the blueberry lies the dew 蓝莓果上露珠滚动 Droppings tremble – thunder, storm is near 滴滴颤落--雷雨将近 Dusk has covered me and you 黄昏笼罩你我 Weeps the rain with the blueberry tears 天空泣下蓝莓色雨滴 Wake yourself and watch the dream 醒来吧,一起欣赏这梦境 The blueberry smell is mak

Je suis le Ténébreux, - le Veuf, - l 'Inconsolé Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la Tour abolie Ma seule Etoile est morte, - et mon luth constellé Porte le Soleil noir de la Mélancolie Dans la nuit du Tombeau, Toi qui m'as consolé Rends-moi le Pausilippe et l

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn is but a field of tares, And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is past, and yet I saw no sun, And now I live, and now my life is done. My ta