The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.

  • -- Robert Frost 罗伯特·弗罗斯特

雨对风说: 你推我,我就扔。” 他们就这样打了花园的床 花儿真的跪下了, 就睡在那里,虽然没有死。 我知道花的感觉。

相关名言

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.

诗歌是一种和平的行为。和平之于诗人,犹如面粉之于面包。

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

一首诗开始于哽咽,一种错误的感觉,一种乡愁,一种相思。