经典英文诗歌(共16首)

经典英文诗歌(共16首)

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　　My birthright I have traded for a petal dress

　　and a summer eulogy.I have pawned my soul

　　for this opal ring, the color of a pale, taxidermied eye.

　　If I could carry calla lilies on my shoulder once more

　　like an umbrella in daylight, I would lean them

　　on the cemetery gate and sleep until the groundskeeper found me.

　　For some of us, beauty is carcinoma.

　　The saints stigmata is god’s rose, bestowed

　　for forgoing a human lover, who will, of course, die.

　　I died last year.My mother made her tears into crystal

　　earrings and clipped them to my ears.“Son, you will

　　pay for your sin,“ my father spoke from his throne of glass.

　　Stars burn a sharp, white nacre until they evaporate.

　　The moons flamingo unfolds her iodine wings over the broken city.

　　My necropolis.My teeth are the fruit of your olive tree.

　　by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

　　Think not this paper comes with vain pretense

　　To move your pity, or to mourn th offense.

　　Too well I know that hard obdurate heat;

　　No softening mercy there will take my part,

　　Nor can a womans arguments prevail,

　　When even your patrons wise example fails.

　　But this last privilege I still retain;

　　Th oppressed and injured always may complain

　　Too, too severely laws of honor bind

　　The weak submissive sex of womankind.

　　If sighs have gained or force compelled our hand,

　　Deceived by art, or urged by stern command,

　　Whatever motive binds the fatal tie,

　　The judging world expects our constancy.

　　Just heaven! (for sure in heaven does justice reign,

　　Though tricks below that sacred name profane)

　　To you appealing I submit my cause,

　　Nor fear a judgment from impartial laws.

　　All bargains but conditional are made;

　　The purchase void, the creditor unpaid;

　　Defrauded servants are from service free;

　　A wounded slave regains his liberty.

　　For wives ill used no remedy remains,

　　To daily racks condemned, and to eternal chains.

　　From whence is this unjust distinction grown?

　　Are we not formed with passions like your own?

　　Nature with equal fire our souls endued,

　　Our minds as haughty, and as warm as our blood;

　　Oer the wide world your pleasures you pursue,

　　The change is justified by something new;

　　But we must sigh in silence--and be true.

　　Our sexs weakness you expose and blame

　　(Of every prattling fop the common theme),

　　Yet from this weakness you suppose is due

　　Sublimer virtue that your Cato knew.

　　Had heaven designed us trials so severe,

　　It would have formed our tempers then to bear.

　　And I have borne (oh what have I not borne!)

　　The pang of jealousy, the insults of scorn.

　　Wearied at length, I from your sight remove,

　　And place my future hopes in secret love.

　　In the gay bloom of glowing youth retired,

　　I quit the womans joy to be admired,

　　With that small pension your hard heart allows,

　　Renounce your fortune, and release your vows.

　　To custom (though unjust) so much is due;

　　I hide my frailty from the public view.

　　My conscience clear, yet sensible of shame,

　　My life I hazard, to preserve my fame.

　　And I prefer this low inglorious state

　　To vile dependence on the thing I hate--

　　But you pursue me to this last retreat.

　　Dragged into light, my tender crime is shown

　　And every circumstance of fondness known.

　　Beneath the shelter of the law you stand,

　　And urge my ruin with a cruel hand,

　　While to my fault thus rigidly severe,

　　Tamely submissive to the man you fear.

　　This wretched outcast, this abandoned wife,

　　Has yet this joy to sweeten shameful life:

　　By your mean conduct, infamously loose,

　　You are at once my accuser and excuse.

　　Let me be damned by the censorious prude

　　(Stupidly dull, or spiritually lewd),

　　My hapless case will surely pity find

　　From every just and reasonable mind.

　　When to the final sentence I submit,

　　The lips condemn me, but their souls acquit.

　　No more my husband, to your pleasures go,

　　The sweets of your recovered freedom know.

　　Go: court the brittle friendship of the great,

　　Smile at his board, or at his levee wait;

　　And when dismissed, to madams toilet fly,

　　More than her chambermaids, or glasses, lie,

　　Tell her how young she looks, how heavenly fair,

　　Admire the lilies and the roses there.

　　Your high ambition may be gratified,

　　Some cousin of her own be made your bride,

　　And you the father of a glorious race

　　Endowed with Ch--ls strength and Low--rs face.

　　by Denise Duhamel

　　"……The use of condoms offers substantial protection, but does not

　　guarantee total protection and that while

　　there is no evidence that deep kissing has resulted in

　　transfer of the virus, no one can say that such transmission

　　would be absolutely impossible."

　　--The Surgeon General, 1987

　　I know you wont mind if I ask you to put this on.

　　Its for your protection as well as mine--Wait.

　　Wait.Here, before we rush into anything

　　Ive bought a condom for each one of your fingers.And here--

　　just a minute--Open up.

　　Ill help you put this one on, over your tongue.

　　I was thinking:

　　If we leave these two rolled, you can wear them

　　as patches over your eyes.Partners have been known to cry,

　　shed tears, bodily fluids, at all this trust, at even the thought

　　of this closeness.

　　by Matthew Rohrer

　　In the middle garden is the secret wedding,

　　that hides always under the other one

　　and under the shiny things of the other one.Under a tree

　　one hand reaches through the grainy dusk toward another.

　　Two right hands.The ring is a weed that will surely die.

　　There is no one else for miles,

　　and even those people far away are deaf and blind.

　　There is no one to bless this.

　　There are the dark trees, and just beyond the trees.

　　by Andrea Werblin

　　Except for the chickens humming to each other,

　　making themselves look boneless in the dirt,

　　I want no memory of this place.

　　I will leave gingerly.

　　I will leave strung out.

　　I will leave rocking on my heels in unbearable heat.

　　the Mexican girls still faking and mourning Selena

　　from their perfect cement stoops,

　　not yet sworn to the anger hanging

　　from their papas mouths like cigarettes.

　　I will leave stunned, from across the room.

　　I will leave by instinct, my tongue intact.

　　I will leave understanding it

　　was always coming, before that night, even

　　before we met.Marta will stand quiet, a glyph,

　　Pedro offer beer in cups.Well sit.

　　When I leave, the sky will be a gouache of scratches,

　　the morning sluggish, a cactus flowering.

　　Or I will leave in blistered dark.It will still be true.

　　There were mice, and even

　　Smaller creatures holed up in the rafters.

　　One would raise its thumb, or frown,

　　And suddenly the clouds would part, and the whole

　　Fantastic contraption come tumbling down.

　　And the arcade of forgotten things

　　Closed in the winter, and the roller coaster

　　Stood empty as the visitors sped away

　　Down a highway that passed by an old warehouse

　　Full of boxes of spools and spoons.

　　I wonder if these small mythologies,

　　Whose only excuse for existing is to maintain us

　　In our miniscule way of life,

　　Might possibly be true? And even if they were,

　　Would it be right? Go find the moon

　　And seal it in the envelope of night.

　　The stars are like a distant dust

　　And what the giants left lies hidden in full view.

　　Brush your hair.Wipe the blood from your shoes.

　　Sit back and watch the firedance begin.

　　--So the rain falls in place,

　　The playground by the school is overrun with weeds

　　And we live our stories, filling up our lives

　　With souvenirs of the abandoned

　　Factory we have lingered in too long.

　　Spring

　　春天

　　Sound the flute!

　　吹起长笛!

　　Now it’s mute;

　　现在它无声无息

　　Birds delight

　　鸟儿欢歌

　　Day and night;

　　白昼黑夜.

　　Nightingale

　　夜莺高唱

　　In the dale,山谷之上,Lark in sky,空中云雀,Merrily满心喜悦,Merrily merrily, to welcome in the year.迎接新年,欢天喜地.

　　Little boy小小男孩

　　Full of joy;无比欢喜.

　　Little girl小小女孩

　　Sweet and small;娇小甜蜜.

　　Cock does crow,公鸡报晓,So do you;你也鸡叫.

　　Merry voice,声音愉快,Infant noise,婴儿吵闹,Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.迎接新年,欢天喜地.

　　Little Lamb小羔羊儿,Here I am;我在这儿. Come and lick

　　过来舔舔,我雪白的脖子.

　　My white neck.让我摸摸

　　Let me pull你柔软的羊毛,Your soft wool,让我亲亲.

　　Let me kiss你柔润的`脸儿,Your soft face;欢天喜地,迎接新年.

　　Merrily, merrily, we welcome in the year.

　　Clear wine in golden goblets, ten thousand cash a cup,And costly delicacies on jade platters.

　　Yet I spurn drinking and toss away my chopsticks,Sword in hand, restless, I wonder what to do.

　　I want to cross the Yellow River, but its ice-bound;

　　I want to climb the Taihang Mountains, but theyre snow-covered.

　　So idly I fish by a limpid stream,Dreaming of sailing towards the sun.

　　Travelling is hard! Travelling is hard!

　　So many crossroads; which to choose?

　　One day Ill skim the waves, blown by the wind,With sails hoisted high, across the vast ocean.

　　Oh Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done,The ship has weatherd every rack, the prize we sought is won,The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

　　But Oh heart! heart! heart!

　　Oh the bleeding drops of red!

　　Where on the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead.

　　Oh Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

　　Rise up -for you the flag is flung -for you the bugle trills,For you bouquets and ribbond wreaths-for you the shores crowding,For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turing;

　　Here, Captain! dear father!

　　This arm beneath your head;

　　It is some dream that on the deck

　　Youve fallen cold and dead.

　　My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,My father does not feel my arm , he has no pulse nor will;

　　The ship is anchord safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;

　　From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

　　Exult, Oh shores! and ring, Oh bells!

　　But I,with mournful tread,Walk the deck my captain lies,Fallen cold and dead.

　　Amongst the flowers I

　　am alone with my pot of wine

　　drinking by myself; then lifting

　　my cup I asked the moon

　　to drink with me, its reflection

　　and mine in the wine cup, just

　　the three of us; then I sigh

　　for the moon cannot drink,

　　and my shadow goes emptily along

　　with me never saying a word;

　　with no other friends here, I can

　　but use these two for company;

　　in the time of happiness, I

　　too must be happy with all

　　around me; I sit and sing

　　and it is as if the moon

　　accompanies me; then if I

　　dance, it is my shadow that

　　dances along with me; while

　　still not drunk, I am glad

　　to make the moon and my shadow

　　into friends, but then when

　　I have drunk too much, we

　　all part; yet these are

　　friends I can always count on

　　these who have no emotion

　　whatsoever; I hope that one day

　　we three will meet again,

　　deep in the Milky Way.

　　She was there at the beginning

　　When the world was new to you -

　　She was there to turn to happy times

　　Those when, you were hurt or blue.

　　She was there to listen to your thoughts

　　And when you asked, to give advice -

　　She was there to tell you, "Those dont match!"

　　Or, "Hon, you sure look nice."

　　She was there with you at nighttime

　　To help you say your prayers _

　　She was there to tell you, "Its alright."

　　When you had a dream that scares.

　　She was there at morning time

　　To get you up and out of bed -

　　She was there when you didnt feel good (or did)

　　To say, "Youd best stay home, instead."

　　She was there when you were hungry

　　And when you had those dirty clothes -

　　She was there when you needed her

　　(How she knew? Only heaven knows.)

　　She was there at the beginning

　　And shell be there your whole life through -

　　Shell be there in your mind and heart

　　Just like a mother is supposed to do.

　　It takes more than blood to be a dad.

　　Oh this is surely a proven fact.

　　Ive seen men give his heart to a child …

　　Never once think of taking it back.

　　A Dad is the one who is always there;

　　He protects a child from all harm.

　　He gives a child the assurance that he

　　will be their anchor in any storm.

　　A real Dad is a man that teaches his child

　　all the things in life he needs to know.

　　Hes the tower of strength a child leans on.

　　The source of love that helps them grow.

　　There are men that children call Daddy.

　　Oh, he is their shelter when it rains.

　　He showers them with unconditional love.

　　As if it were his blood in their veins.

　　Whenever you meet a Dad that redefines the word,

　　honor him with all the respect that is due.

　　Understand that he proudly wears this banner……

　　Because his heart is big enough for you.

　　Its sad but true that not all men understand

　　it takes more than blood to be a dad.

　　Someday if they wake up to their empty life …

　　They shall miss what they could have had.

　　To those men who will never be a dad …

　　No matter what they say or do.

　　It takes more than blood to possess that title …

　　And its only found in a man like you.

　　The Pride of Youth

　　Proud Maisie is in the wood,

　　Walking so early;

　　Sweet Robin sits on the bush,

　　Singing so rarely.

　　“tell me ,thou bonny bird,

　　when shall I marry me?”

　　-“when six braw gentlemen

　　kirkward shall carry ye.”

　　“who makes the bridal bed,

　　birdie, say truly?”

　　-“The gray-headed sexton

　　That delves the grave duly.

　　“The glowworm o’er grave and stone

　　Shall light thee steady;

　　The owl from the steeple sing,

　　Welcome, proud lady.”

　　A Time for Everything

　　万物皆有时

　　from The Holy Bible

　　For everything there is a season,and a time for every matter under heaven:

　　凡事都有定期,天下万物都有定时

　　A time to be born,and a time to die;

　　生有时,死有时

　　A time to plant,and a time to pluck up that what is planted;

　　栽种有时,拔出所栽种的,也有时

　　A time to kill,and a time to heal;

　　杀戮有时,医治有时

　　A time to break down,and a time to build up;

　　拆毁有时,建造有时

　　A time to weep,and a time to laugh;

　　哭有时,笑有时

　　A time to mourn,and a time to dance;

　　哀恸有时,跳舞有时

　　A time to throw away stones,and a time to gather stones together;

　　抛掷石头有时,堆聚石头有时

　　A time to embrace,and a time to refrain from embracing;

　　怀抱有时,不怀抱有时

　　A time to seek,and a time to lose;

　　寻找有时,失落有时

　　A time to keep,and a time to cast away;

　　保守有时,舍弃有时

　　A time to tear,and a time to sew;

　　撕裂有时,缝补有时

　　A time to keep silence,and a time to speak;

　　静默有时,言语有时

　　A time to love,and a time to hate;

　　喜爱有时,恨恶有时

　　A time for war;

　　and a time for peace

　　争战有时,和平有时

　　Chariots rumble and horses grumble.

　　The conscripts march with bow and arrows at the waist.

　　Their fathers, mothers, wives and children come in haste

　　To see them off; the bridge is shrouded in dust they’ve raised.

　　They clutch at their coats, stamp the feet and bar the way;

　　Their grief cries loud and strikes the cloud straight, straightaway.

　　An onlooker by roadside asks an enrollee.

　　“The conscription is frequent,” only answers he.

　　Some went north at fifteen to guard the rivershore,And were sent west to till the land at forty.

　　The elder bound their young heads when they went away;

　　Just home, they’re sent to the frontier though their hair’s gray.

　　The field on borderland becomes a sea of blood;

　　The emperor’s greed for land is still at high flood.

　　Have you not heard

　　Two hundred districts east of the Hua Mountains lie,Where briers and brambles grow in villages far and nigh?

　　Although stout women can wield the plough and the hoe,Thorns and weeds in the east as in the west o’ergrow.

　　The enemy are used to hard and stubborn fight;

　　Our men are driven just like dogs or fowls in flight.

　　“You are kind to ask me.

　　To complain I’m not free.

　　In winter of this year

　　Conscription goes on here.

　　The magistrates for taxes press.

　　How can we pay them in distress?

　　If we had know sons bring no joy,We would have preferred girl to boy.

　　A daughter can be wed to a neighbor, alas!

　　A son can only be buried under the grass!”

　　Have you not seen On borders green

　　Bleached bones since olden days unburied on the plain?

　　The old ghosts weep and cry, while the new ghosts complain;

　　The air is loud with screech and scream in gloomy rain.

　　The moon in the bureau mirror

　　looks out a million miles

　　(and perhaps with pride, at herself,

　　but she never, never smiles)

　　far and away beyond sleep, or

　　perhaps shes a daytime sleeper.

　　By the Universe deserted,

　　shed tell it to go to hell,

　　and shed find a body of water,

　　or a mirror, on which to dwell.

　　So wrap up care in a cobweb

　　and drop it down the well

　　into that world inverted

　　where left is always right,

　　where the shadows are really the body,

　　where we stay awake all night,

　　where the heavens are shallow as the sea

　　is now deep, and you love me.

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