Let Thinking Fly as Free as a Crane

Let  Thinking  Fly as Free as a Crane

I think therefore i exist .this is the music we must face ,as its natuer does ,

whether you are willing or not .Either shun in recession,or burst in concession.

 

Hovering Crane

Free as a crane hovering over if i can

choose i will

serene as a fish swiming in the brook only if i can i will

Halious as a boy receiving his longing toy as long as the god grant

reticent out of sight as a small cat tiptoeing its claw approaching hunt only if 

If could i would that nothing more than if

There is no if no should no would no might no could no ought but aything like what is done cannot be undone.abstraction from Let Thinking Fly as Free as a Crane

The sunset resting on the lake

Note:Cranes are a clade (Gruidae) of large, long-legged and long-necked birds in the group Gruiformes.There are fifteen species of crane in four genera. Unlike the similar-looking but unrelated herons, cranes fly with necks outstretched, not pulled back. Cranes live on all continents except Antarctica andSouth America.

When you are old from William Butler Yeats the power of poem

When  you  are  old          

 ----the power of poem  

Ever since the modernization of society,especialy in this 21st century,the sound of scauffels auf meine ohre:the poet has been dead,because the poem is never useful.Really the poet has been dead just like the cry from Niche in the street: the god died!

what is a poem

What is the poem?in enlish dictionary and wikipedia they give such explanation Poetry (from the Greek poiesis — ποίησις — with a broad meaning of a "making",

seen also in such terms as "hemopoiesis"; more narrowly, the making of poetry) is a form of literary art which uses the aesthetic qualities of language to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, the prosaic ostensiblemeaning. Mit dem Begriff „Gedicht“ wurde ursprünglich alles schriftlich Abgefasste bezeichnet. This difination is rather feelingless and bored.
Thus this question comes to some idea on my mind.The poem is the purifier to one’s soul when one reads the sammulungen von viele Gedichten,resounded with one’s inndermost when you wonder about your choose ,glittered with light when you have the decreasing dismay.

The reason why the useless theory of poem is arised from the modern society mainly comes out of the utilitarian trend.Just like one word from Dengxiaoping :The cat that catches a mouse is indeed a good one,wether the color of cat is black or white. Any one must measure and tap everything with one sclale:the scale of money.if something that can earn money,

it is surely a useful thing,if not it is nothing but scum.

If one only chase this aim without considering its feeling and psycological desire,he or she is nothing but a deadly person;if a nation sticks to this air without considering the soul disire,then the country is nothing a deadly land.how can we seek the innermost from one persone or country ? the answere is the traditional literature like the poem the fiction from the forefathers who have once traced in this plant.that is the power of the poem which can integrate an individual energy,combine the coherence of a whole nation,mosturize the desert and wildness in the every cornor of human being.

Poem is the collective memory from one’s nation.How an englishman reacts when he or she im Ausland hears other’s talking about Keats,a germany does when about Goethe,a chinese when about Sushi? This is the power of the poem: the memory residued from our ancestors.

Poem is boundless just like I often read the Jeat’s poem,<< when you grow old>>­­

William Butler Yeats

Deutschsprachige Version

Bist du einst alt und grau und voller Schlaf

Und nickst am Feuer ein, dann nimm dies Buch,

Lies langsam, träume dich zurück und such,

Wie mich dein Aug mit seinem Schatten traf.

Wie viele liebten dich im heitren Licht

Und, weil du schön warst, sahn dich mit Begier,

Doch einer liebt' das Pilgerherz in dir,

Die Trauer in dem wechselnden Gesicht.

Und wenn du dich hinunterneigst zur Glut,

Dann flüstre traurig: wie die Liebe floh

Und auf den Bergen hinschritt irgendwo

Und ihr Gesicht verbarg in Sternenflut

when you are  old

English Version:

When you are old and gray and full of sleep 
And nodding before the fire,take down this book , 
Slowly read,and dream of a soft look 
Your eyes have once and of their shadows deep 


How many loved your moments of glad grace 
And loved you beauty with false or true ; 
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you 
Andloved the sorrows of your changing face 



And bending down before the glowing bars 
Murmur,a bit sadly,how love fled 
And paced upon mountains overhead, 
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars   
                        ------------from William Butler Yeats

This is a touching poem written by William Bult Yeats,in which he construe love as the time when old you can hold your loves hands softly appreciating the calm "sunset glow"
left by river of time just as "Together we went old holing mutual hands "in traditional chinese-like love .Time ,a most fair goddess who sweep all the dusts shrounding around a true face of creature,presents us the nature in life--family love relationship frinds and integrity and such as .


None can be immortal,but every time I read this poem I am sure when I grow old
happiness and calmness instead of fear and uneasiness will infill my heart.This is surely the power from a poem.