Dictionary › 沉睡

沉睡

chén shuì

2-character word

What 沉睡 means

1. to be fast asleep
2. (fig.) to lie dormant; to lie undiscovered

The characters in 沉睡

• 沉chénto submerge; to immerse; to sink
• 睡shuìto sleep; to lie down

Example sentences

• 无色的绿色意念愤怒地沉睡着。
  Wúsè de lǜsè yìniàn fènnù de chénshuì zhe.
  Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.
• 中国是一只沉睡的狮子，一旦觉醒，将会震惊世界。
  Zhōngguó shì yī zhī chénshuì de shīzi, yīdàn juéxǐng, jiānghuì zhènjīng shìjiè.
  China is a sleeping tiger, but once it wakes up, it will shock the world.
• 越过松林，远处有一座小花园。那里青草长得又长又茂盛，铁杉花像洁白的星星一样闪耀，夜莺整夜唱歌。它整夜歌唱，冰冷的月光俯瞰着它，紫杉树张开巨大的枝干，庇护着沉睡的人们。
  Far away beyond the pine-woods, there is a little garden. There the grass grows long and deep, there are the great white stars of the hemlock flower, there the nightingale sings all night long. All night long he sings, and the cold crystal moon looks down, and the yew-tree spreads out its giant arms over the sleepers.
• 现在是 2025 年 8 月 3 日，露露岛。晚餐后，阳光下嫩绿的无花果，昨天腌制的甜醋，还有重新加热的阿尔弗雷多义面，我坐在阳台上，望着那棵针叶树。楼下静谧无声，街道空无一车，一片悠闲。我的冰镇青柠水在阳光下闪闪发光。最近，我常和那位法丹混血的 UFO 研究专家麦可聊天。我们谈论内心深处的事情：智慧型装置的迷醉，以及思维的衰退。他说，咖啡馆已经不再是咖啡馆了。人们忘记如何观察、如何驻足停留。我跟他讲起在日本的亚瑟，他会像僧侣凝视虚空一样，对着空白的墙壁发呆。最近，我让机器像诗人一样说话，它们真的做到了。它们模仿伊莉莎白时代的诗歌，以及塔加洛语民谣中那古老而忧伤的韵律。我沿着通往蒂姆霍顿咖啡店的小路采摘黑莓。我像个孩子似的喊道：「莫拉！」我的朋友莫拉，她血液里流着安地斯山脉的薄雾，她会笑的。今天，我买了黄柠檬。我本来想买青柠，但黄柠檬也可以。/ 黑莓的清晨 / 指尖残留无花果的痕迹 / 街道依然沉睡
  It's Lulu Island, 3 August 2025. After supper—green figs tender with sunlight, sweet vinegar from yesterday’s pickled jar, and reheated Alfredo—I sat on the balcony and watched the conifer. Stillness below, a street without cars, without haste. My lime water, iced, caught the light. Michael, the Franco-Danish ufologist, has been in my conversations lately. We speak of inner things: the trance of smart devices, the mind’s eye dwindling. He says cafés aren’t cafés anymore. People forget how to look, how to linger. I tell him of Arthur in Japan—how he'd stare into blank walls like a monk gazing at emptiness. Lately I ask machines to speak like poets, and they do. They mimic Elizabethan verses and the old wistful lilt of Tagalog ballads. I pick blackberries along the path to Tim Hortons. "¡Moras!" I shout like a child. My friend Mora, whose blood flows with Andes mist, would smile. Today, I bought lemons. I meant limes, but lemons are all right. / blackberry morning— / a fig's ghost on my fingers / and the street still sleeps