This poem is all about the beauty of nature that I feel...
This poem is totally opposite to the last poem I wrote"I don't belong to the world"
Look what I see there
those mawar are very dear to me
Hear what I am hearing now
those bernyanyi birds are very dear to me..
This green rumput freshens up my mood
that blue sky , gives me a hope
that shiny sun brightens up my smile
These winds are calming my heart
See what I see there
a pelangi after a very heavy rain
those warna can be seen in my eyes
I can feel the magic of this nature
I am flying with the butterflies
even though I am on land
I am bernyanyi with the birds
even though I don't have a nest.
a man can feel all this nature
when he own the treasure
the treasure isn't the gold
that treasure is just the happiness.
This poem is totally opposite to the last poem I wrote"I don't belong to the world"
Look what I see there
those mawar are very dear to me
Hear what I am hearing now
those bernyanyi birds are very dear to me..
This green rumput freshens up my mood
that blue sky , gives me a hope
that shiny sun brightens up my smile
These winds are calming my heart
See what I see there
a pelangi after a very heavy rain
those warna can be seen in my eyes
I can feel the magic of this nature
I am flying with the butterflies
even though I am on land
I am bernyanyi with the birds
even though I don't have a nest.
a man can feel all this nature
when he own the treasure
the treasure isn't the gold
that treasure is just the happiness.
Poem Daffodils oleh William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the tampil to me had brought:
For oft, when on my dipan, sofa I lie
In vacant atau in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my jantung with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the tampil to me had brought:
For oft, when on my dipan, sofa I lie
In vacant atau in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my jantung with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
In dropped smoky evening with countless fires burning flame which is torn blue cold dark. In small settlements rang sharp, hysterical scream.
Andjelija allocate the plates for makan malam pack of children. The scream came from the left room, where a few moments Elvira just came to prepare the bed.
- What started the carnage.
She raised the gun he always wore them. In the middle of the room she noticed an Indian who was holding the hand Elvira Premrl fear. His face was punctured, distortion of smallpox...
Andjelija allocate the plates for makan malam pack of children. The scream came from the left room, where a few moments Elvira just came to prepare the bed.
- What started the carnage.
She raised the gun he always wore them. In the middle of the room she noticed an Indian who was holding the hand Elvira Premrl fear. His face was punctured, distortion of smallpox...
Stopping oleh Woods on a Snowy Evening
oleh ROBERT FROST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and Frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his memanfaatkan bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
oleh ROBERT FROST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and Frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his memanfaatkan bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.