Chapter 3 of "Chard Harrow Tour" (excerpt)
Text / Byron
One
Cute child, your face is like your mother?
Last met, you really blue eyelry is laughing.
My family and soul's indecent daughter, Edad!
Then break up, - can not be like this,
There was still hope. -
Suddenly I am very surprised:
The surrounding surf is already awkward;
I am gone; where you are drifting, you don't know yourself;
But the coast is already in front of me.
Albiwen is no longer happy, or makes me melancholy.
two
Also here to the sea! Another sea is home!
I welcome you, welcome you, the waves!
The raging sea tide of my body is the horse's horses;
I will send me, no matter where it is sent.
Although the nervous mast is like a reed,
Although the rupture of the hail is in the wind,
However, I still have to go to his hometown.
Because I am like a grass dropped from the rock,
Will drift on the ocean, regardless of the storm, how high is.
three
In the golden age of youth, I have singed one person.
That rebellious rebellion against the drift of his depression;
Now come to the beginning of the beginning,
I am going to move forward like a blast, let me say it.
From this story, I found the traces of the past thoughts.
And dry tears, they gradually annihilated,
But leave a desolate track; just here,
Take heavy footsteps, stepping on the sand, years
Going away; the last sand of this life is not a flower.
four
Maybe because of your young joy and painful passion,
My heart, my piano has broken a string,
They all make a harsh noisy sound,
I am still difficult to improve now;
Although my tune is dull, depression is not happy,
However, for this song, you can help me out
Self-private grief dream - how tired of it,
I am intoxicated in all the realm of forgetting everything.
It is at least for me (only for me), it is not a keynote.
Fives
Whoever rely on the age of experience,
Know this tragic world, see through life,
Then he will do everything else;
The world's honor, ambition, sorrow, struggle, love,
I can never use the sharp knife to stab your heart.
Leave a silent and severe pain, in his heart;
He knows that he is going to retreat to the lonely cave.
And in the cave, but full of lively fantasies.
In the crowded mind, you still have an old and intact image.
six
In order to create and live more active in creation,
We turn all kinds of fantasies into specific images.
Life while living in our fantasy life,
In short, just like I have written poetry.
What am I? Empty is empty. You are different,
My soul of my thoughts! I am drifting around the ground with you.
Although it is not visible, it always stars to the ever.
I have turned to you into a taste.
You are always by me, even if I feel exhausted.
Seven
But I shouldn't think of such enthusiasm, messy,
I have already thought too gloomy, and too much, too much.
My mind is boiling in the turmoil, too tired,
Turn into a vortex of a frenzy and flame.
From the youth era, my heart is not bound,
So my life of life has been poisoned.
It's too late! However, I am not afraid of me, although I can't get a pain, I can still endure;
Although I still eat bitter fruit, I don't blame my life.
Die
But soon he wake up, knowing himself
The most uncomfortable is in people, and it is mixed in the crowd;
He has a difference between people, and is very different;
He is willing to attach the sound, although his soul,
At the time of the young, I have been defeated by my own thoughts;
He is alone, how can I know the sovereignty of my heart?
The mediocrity of those who are cut to the soul;
Proud in lonely, because even if you are alone,
When people are in the group, don't have a life that will be discovered.
one three
The ups and downs of the mountains are like a friend who is intimate.
The sea rushing the sea is his hometown;
He has power and there is also enthusiastic to wave,
As long as there is a blue sky and bright scenery;
Desert, forest, cave and white waves at sea,
These are his partner, which makes him nostalgia;
They have a common language, understand smooth,
Since the home of his own country - he often leaves the side,
And Nishan read the poems of the sun written on the lake.
Thirty-three
Like a broken mirror cracking into many pieces of broken blocks,
Turn into many small mirrors, one side;
The more broken, the more people will be reflected.
Will put a human shadow for thousands;
And, then, if you can't forget the past,
Broken place; it is cold, lonely,
I can't sleep sadly slowly, I can't sleep.
The body is not dead, it is difficult to eliminate,
Which pain relief is unlocked, because it is unable to talk.
Four seven
They stand, as if it is a lonely heart,
Although it is awkward, it is never as mediocriary.
There is no one in the empty, only wind blows from the gap;
Can only talk to the clouds, these costumes;
One day, they are young and proud.
The following war is on the war, the banner flutters over;
But now those fight, have already been discouraged,
Those fluttering, even the ashes, no trace,
Leave a desolate bowl, never get it again.
Seventh day
Mountain peaks, lakes and blue sky don't belong to me
And my soul, like I am part of them?
I love them, in my deep heart,
Is it sincere pure? How can I not look at it?
Everything else, makes the same landscape and the sky?
How can I don't have a low annoying turbidity?
To abandon these feelings, learn those who are a musiore,
Replace it with a paramount and secular cold heart intestines?
The mediocrity of the eyes only looks at the mud pit, and what dares to shine.
Eighth nine
The world is silent, although there is no depression,
But I forgot to breathe, like people in touch with the deepest;
Quietly, just thinking that it is like a drunk:
Silence in the world, splendid from the high starry sky,
Go to the peaceful lake and the hugged mountain,
Everything is concentrated in a real life.
Whether it is a line, a wind, a leaf petal,
Not lost, but have been part of the existence,
Each felt that all the creators and guards of the guards were authentic.
Nine ○
So I deeply arouse the universal feeling of the universe.
Especially in loneliness - actually the least lonely;
This feeling is truth, it has existed through our existence,
Also penetrate, get rid of yourself; it is a tone,
The soul and source of music are called the music, which makes people understand the eternal harmony; it seems to be in the belt of Sicreia.
It has a magical, it can produce a farewell,
Everything is taking it, it is beautiful,
It makes the magic shadow of the dead can't be harmful to us.
One-one
I have never loved this world, and I didn't love me;
It's odor, I have never praised;
Did not reveal the joy to flatter, do not follow the sound,
I didn't kneel down to my idol worship.
Therefore, the world can't treat me as a similar;
I am sideway, but it is not one of them;
If there is no humiliation, the soul is contaminated.
Then I may have floated in the sea.
Not them, and count as their thoughts of the corpse.
