Shelley ode to the west wind, the wild west wind, the breath of autumn life! You can't see, but you swept away the dead leaves, like a ghost meeting a wizard and running away: yellow, black, gray and red are like a group of people with tuberculosis. Oh, west wind, you drive winged seeds to the dark winter bed, where they lie like dead holes in the grave, cold and cold. Free spirit, you travel everywhere; Destroyer and Protector: Listen, you listen! Into your torrent, when the sky is in chaos, clouds are torn apart from the tangled branches of the sky and the ocean like dead leaves of the earth. Be the messengers of rain and electricity: they fall on your majestic blue wave surface, flashing like crazy women's fluttering hair, reaching the zenith of Nine from the farthest and vaguest edge of the sky, and waving curly hair everywhere. You sang Corona songs for the year of dying, and this dense night will become the dome of its vast grave, which is full of the condensation of your strength; That's your innocent breath, from which black rain, hail and flames will pour out: Oh, listen! It's you, who woke up the blue Mediterranean. It was asleep all summer, hypnotized by the dancing of clear water, just beside a pumice island in Baya Bay. It dreamed that ancient palaces and castles were swaying in the waves of water and sky, and they were all covered with moss and flowers. That smell is really charming! Oh, in order to make way for you, the turbulent waves of the Atlantic split themselves in two directions, while the flowers and muddy forests in the depths of the ocean, though sparsely covered with branches and leaves, have no energy; Hearing your voice, they turned blue with fear: while trembling, they automatically flinched: Oh, listen! Hey, if I am a dead leaf floating with you, if I am a cloud that can fly with you, a wave that breathes with your strength, if I have your pulse, I just don't have your freedom, oh, an uncontrollable life! If I could dance like Feng Ling when I was a teenager, become your partner and roam the sky (because, at that time, chasing you to the sky didn't seem like a dream), I wouldn't be so anxious to pray with you now. Oh, lift me up like waves, leaves and clouds! I fell on the thorns of life, I was bleeding! This kind of life is suppressed by the heavy shackles of years, just like you: proud, agile and unruly. Think of me as your harp, like a forest: even if my leaves have fallen, what does it matter! The music inspired by your huge ensemble will contaminate the forest and my late autumn: sad but sweet. Oh, I hope you can give me a violent soul! Brave, let us become one! Please blow my dead thoughts to the world and let them give birth to new life like dead leaves! Oh, please listen to this spell-like poem, and spread my words to the world like ashes and sparks from the still burning fire! Let the horn of prophecy awaken the sleeping earth through my lips! Winter is coming, west wind, how can spring be far away?