Songs And Poetries
Songs
Scarborough Fair
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Remember me to the one who lives there,
For once she was a true love of mine.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Without any seam or needlework,
Then she shall be a true love of mine.
Tell her to wash it in yonder well,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Where never sprung water or rain ever fell,
And she shall be a true lover of mine.
Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born,
Then she shall be a true lover of mine.
Poetries
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
I like for you to be still
I like for you to be still， it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away， and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.
I like for you to be still， and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooinglike a dove.
And you hear me from far away and you voice does not rouch you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is brightas a lamp,simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with it's stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remore and candid.
I like for you to be still， it is as though you were absent,
distant anf fullof sorrow as though you had died.
One word then,one smile,is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
