【二月茶馆】二月二日江上行，东风日暖闻吹笙。

埃文河天鹅

妾有情，日暮眺东方，稀星一天愁。
看晚霞依旧，情郎渐瘦，身若猕猴。
满山白菇褐草，纤纤入补粥。
六味地黄丸，已购几兜。
犹见气沉丹田，满脸红光现，戟透轻绸。
风吹草不动，雨至鸟方啾。
品玉笛，淋漓畅酣，战桃蕊，一枪锁深喉。
云雨后，遍体酥软，一夜风流。

童天鉴日

天鹅你太搞笑了

童天鉴日

晕。

一到月底，天鹅就冲动了，发上面那类的帖子。

埃文河天鹅

回复 卧龙先生 的帖子

杂志收到了，谢谢卧龙！

埃文河天鹅

To be, or not to be- that is the question:

　Whether it's nobler in the mind to suffer

　The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

　　Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

　And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-

　　No more; and by a sleep to say we end

　　The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks

　　That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation

　　Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.

　　To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!

　　For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

　　When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

　　Must give us pause. There's the respect

　　That makes calamity of so long life.

　　For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

　　Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

　　The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,

　　The insolence of office, and the spurns

　　That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,

　　When he himself might his quietus make

　　With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,

　　To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

　　But that the dread of something after death-

　　The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn

　　No traveller returns- puzzles the will,

　　And makes us rather bear those ills we have

　　Than fly to others that we know not of?

　　Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

　　And thus the native hue of resolution

　　Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

　　And enterprises of great pith and moment

　　With this regard their currents turn awry

　　And lose the name of action.

埃文河天鹅

回复 童天鉴日 的帖子

疏散一下淤积的颓情

Rhapsodia

三月份了，沏一壶新茶吧。

埃文河天鹅

小明哭着回家说汉译英考试不及格。爸爸拿来卷子看中文是“这支黑色的钢笔正在漏水”，再看小明的翻译是：This black pen is leaking。 爸爸很奇怪，说这翻译没错啊。小明抽泣道，老师说我有两个单词写得太近了。

埃文河天鹅

I wish I could remember the first day
First hour, first moment of your meeting me,
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say.
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom for many a May.

If only I could recollect it! Such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand! - Did one but know!

埃文河天鹅

Rossetti