Show Notes
好久没有更新了因为现在租房住在学校旁边麦克风丢在家里所以这次是用耳机录的音质不是很好 不过这么久了总算是克服了懒惰录了一期 上午看到听友留言说每天靠我的声音睡觉 说实话很意外 没想到这个专辑真的给你们带来了一份宁静 所以我想以后我一定会常更新。
One day a young man declared that he had the most beautiful heart in the world. A large crowd flocked to admire his heart for it was perfect. There was not a flaw (瑕疵) in it. Suddenly, an old man appeared and said."Why, your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was full of scars. It had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right, and there were several jagged (锯齿状的) edges, In fact, in some places there were deep gouges (孔洞) where whole pieces were missing. The young man laughed, "Comparing your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars." "Yes," said the old mnan, "Yours looks per fect. but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart that fits into the empty place in my heart. But because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his or her heart to me. These are the empty gouges-giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for those people too, and I hope sorneday they may return and fill the space I have been waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?" The young man walked up to the old man,reached into his perfect heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man. The old man placed it in his heart, then took a piece from bis old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The voung man looked at his heart, not per- fect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his. They embracedand walked away side by side.
More from Life with poems 睡前读物 英文美文 诗歌|睡前的安眠曲
Persuasion(excerpt) Jane Austen I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. —Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. —Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W.
Paper Boats (1913) Rabindranath Tagore Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running stream. In big black letters I write my name on them and the name of the village where I live. I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and know who I am. I load my little boats with shiuli flowers from our garden, and hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land in the night. I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the little clouds setting their white bulging sails. I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down the air to race with my boats! When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars. The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading is their baskets full of dreams.
There is a lady sweet and kind, was never face so pleas'd my mind;
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me- "We play from the time we wake till the day ends. We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon." I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?" They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds." "My mother is waiting for me at home, "I say, "How can I leave her and come?" Then they smile and float away. But I know a nicer game than that, mother. I shall be the cloud and you the moon. I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will be the blue sky. The folk who live in the waves call out to me- "We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know not where we pass." I ask, "But how am I to join you?" They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves." I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-how can I leave her and go?" They smile, dance and pass by. But I know a better game than that. I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore. I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap withlaughter. And no one in the world will know where we both are.