Oscar Wilde Poem by Wang Qian

Licking softly the gentle Spring around,
The light fragrance makes his lips so fond.
The eyes are blue glassy stones,
Like the flying songs not bound.

A little frown,
The vulgar are swept far,
A small joke,
Unintentionally arose an amused laugh.
Shallow or profound,
Freely the sole thing he cares
Is to relieve the extra pain.

If the air is not bad,
White doves are herded outside.
He feeds them with sunshine of freedom
And drive away all surrounding hard and boredom.

Sunflower is the golden brother,
Rose is the red lover,
Lily is the ivory sister.
In the garden of May sits his family,
He's the only silver narcissus,
Sipping the thick nectar lonely,
Who builds home a castle out of bricks
Made by noble lies,
And walls gilded by affected weary sighs.
For long he beside the river mirror lies,
Counting the expensive happy
Which never dies.

However worldly fun sometimes tastes tough,
Sunny trips in sunny days disappear so fast,
When too many kisses were put into prison,
The handsome name was cursed by the wind of Reason.
At last there only survived the caged love.

Hopefully
Let laurels and reeds both embrace his brows,
Let the cloak which can cover a sky of doves
Also bear embroidered admiration of unusual flowers.

He is such a lad too light to breathe a single heavy air,
Such a bubble with grace so fragile and form so pure.

Modern Pan smiles full with heart expelled!