Poems
This page documents good poems I came across.
# 中文
春夜宴从弟桃花园序
夫天地者，万物之逆旅；光阴者，百代之过客。而浮生若梦，为欢几何？古人秉烛夜游，良有以也。况阳春召我以烟景，大块假我以文章。会桃李之芳园，序天伦之乐事。群季俊秀，皆为惠连；吾人咏歌，独惭康乐。幽赏未已，高谈转清。开琼筵以坐花，飞羽觞而醉月。不有佳作，何伸雅怀？如诗不成，罚依金谷酒数。
李白
临江仙·柳絮
白玉堂前春解舞，东风卷得均匀。蜂围蝶阵乱纷纷。几曾随逝水？岂必委芳尘？
万缕千丝终不改，任他随聚随分。韶华休笑本无根。好风凭借力，送我上青云。
薛宝钗
定风波·莫听穿林打叶声
三月七日，沙湖道中遇雨。雨具先去，同行皆狼狈，余独不觉。已而遂晴，故作此词。
莫听穿林打叶声，何妨吟啸且徐行。
竹杖芒鞋轻胜马，谁怕？一蓑烟雨任平生。
料峭春风吹酒醒，微冷，山头斜照却相迎。
回首向来萧瑟处，归去，也无风雨也无晴。
苏轼
临江仙·夜饮东坡醒复醉
夜饮东坡醒复醉，归来仿佛三更。家童鼻息已雷鸣。敲门都不应，倚杖听江声。
长恨此身非我有，何时忘却营营？夜阑风静縠纹平。小舟从此逝，江海寄余生。
苏轼
洞仙歌·丁卯八月病中作
贤愚相去，算其间能几。差以毫厘缪千里。细思量义利，舜跖之分，孳孳者，等是鸡鸣而起。
味甘终易坏，岁晚还知，君子之交淡如水。一饷聚飞蚊，其响如雷，深自觉、昨非今是。羡安乐窝中泰和汤，更剧饮，无过半醺而已。
辛弃疾
木兰花·拟古决绝词柬友
人生若只如初见，何事秋风悲画扇。
等闲变却故人心，却道故人心易变。
骊山语罢清宵半，泪雨霖铃终不怨。
何如薄幸锦衣郎，比翼连枝当日愿。
纳兰性德
梦与诗
醉过才知酒浓
爱过才知情重
你不能做我的诗
正如我不能做你的梦
胡适
赠范晔
折花逢驿使，寄与陇头人。 江南无所有，聊赠一枝春。
陆凯
蝉赋
唯夫蝉之清素兮，潜厥类乎太阴。在盛阳之仲夏兮，始游豫乎芳林。实澹泊而寡欲兮，独怡乐而长吟。声皦皦而弥厉兮，似贞士之介心。内含和而弗食兮，与众物而无求。栖高枝而仰首兮，漱朝露之清流。隐柔桑之稠叶兮，快啁号以遁暑。苦黄雀之作害兮，患螳螂之劲斧。冀飘翔而远托兮，毒蜘蛛之网罟。欲降身而卑窜兮，惧草虫之袭予。免众难而弗获兮，遥迁集乎宫宇。依名果之茂阴兮，托修干以静处。有翩翩之狡童兮，步容与于园圃。体离朱之聪视兮，姿才捷于狝猿。条罔叶而不挽兮，树无干而不缘。翳轻躯而奋进兮，跪侧足以自闲。恐余身之惊骇兮，精曾睨而目连。持柔竿之冉冉兮，运微粘而我缠。欲翻飞而逾滞兮，知性命之长捐。委厥体于膳夫。归炎炭而就燔。秋霜纷以宵下，晨风烈其过庭。气憯怛而薄躯，足攀木而失茎。吟嘶哑以沮败，状枯槁以丧形。乱曰：诗叹鸣蜩，声嘒嘒兮，盛阳则来，太阴逝兮。皎皎贞素，侔夷节兮。帝臣是戴，尚其洁兮。
曹植
凤求凰
有一美人兮，见之不忘。 一日不见兮，思之如狂。 凤飞翱翔兮，四海求凰。 无奈佳人兮，不在东墙。 将琴代语兮，聊写衷肠。 何时见许兮，慰我彷徨。 愿言配德兮，携手相将。 不得於飞兮，使我沦亡。
司马相如
碧涧别墅喜皇甫侍御相访
荒村带返照，落叶乱纷纷。
古路无行客，寒山独见君。
野桥经雨断，涧水向田分。
不为怜同病，何人到白云。
刘长卿
戏为六绝句·其二
杨王卢骆当时体，轻薄为文哂未休。 尔曹身与名俱灭，不废江河万古流。
杜甫
# English
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
The invitation
It doesn't interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesnt interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.
It doesn't interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."
It doesn't interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Seven times I have despised my soul
The first time when I saw her being meek that she might attain height.
The second time when I saw her limping before the crippled.
The third time when she was given to choose between the hard and the easy, and she chose the easy.
The fourth time when she committed a wrong, and comforted herself that others also commit wrong.
The fifth time when she forbode for weakness, and attributed her patience to strength.
The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks.
And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, and deemed it a virtue.
Kahlil Gibran
Du bist wie eine Blume
Du bist wie eine Blume,
So hold und schön und rein;
Ich schau’ dich an, und Wehmuth
Schleicht mir in’s Herz hinein.
Mir ist, als ob ich die Hände
Auf’s Haupt dir legen sollt’,
Betend, daß Gott dich erhalte
So rein und schön und hold.