感人的英語文章
感人的英語文章
優(yōu)美的文字于細微處傳達出美感，并浸潤著人們的心靈。通過英語美文,不僅能夠感受語言之美,領悟語言之用，還能產(chǎn)生學習語言的興趣。度過一段美好的時光，即感悟生活，觸動心靈。下面是學習啦小編為大家整理的關于感人的英語文章的相關資料，供您參考!
感人的英語文章篇【1】：母親的雙手
Night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years. Following her longstanding custom, she'd lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.
夜復一夜，她總是來幫我來蓋被子，即使我早已長大。這是媽媽的長期習慣，她總是彎下身來，撥開我的長發(fā)，在我的額上一吻。
I don't remember when it first started annoying me —— her hands pushing my hair that way. But it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin. Finally, one night, I lashed out at her: "Don't do that anymore —— your hands are too rough!" She didn't say anything in reply. But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love. Lying awake long afterward, my words haunted me. But pride stifled my conscience, and I didn't tell her I was sorry.
我不記得從何時起，她撥開我的頭發(fā)令我非常不耐煩。但的確，我討厭她長期操勞、粗糙的手摩擦我細嫩的皮膚。最后，一天晚上，我沖她叫： “別再這樣了——你的手太粗糙了!”她什么也沒說。但媽媽再也沒有象這樣對我表達她的愛。直到很久以后，我還是常想起我的那些話。但自尊占了上風，我沒有告訴她我很后悔。
Time after time, with the passing years, my thoughts returned to that night. By then I missed my mother's hands, missed her goodnight kiss upon my forehead. Sometimes the incident seemed very close, sometimes far away. But always it lurked, hauntingly, in the back of my mind.
時光流逝，我又想到那個晚上。那時我想念我媽媽的手，想念她晚上在我額上的一吻。有時這幕情景似乎很近，有時又似乎很遙遠。但它總是潛伏著，時常浮現(xiàn)，出現(xiàn)在我意識中。
Well, the years have passed, and I'm not a little girl anymore. Mom is in her mid-seventies, and those hands I once thought to be so rough are still doing things for me and my family. She's been our doctor, reaching into a medicine cabinet for the remedy to calm a young girl's stomach or soothe a boy's scraped knee. She cooks the best fried chicken in the world…… gets stains out of blue jeans like I never could……and still insists on dishing out ice cream at any hour of the day or night.
一年年過去，我也不再是一個小女孩，媽媽也有70多歲了。那雙我認為很粗糙的手依然為我和我家庭做著事。她是我家的醫(yī)生，為我女兒在藥櫥里找胃藥或在我兒子擦傷的膝蓋上敷藥。她能燒出世界上最美味的雞…… 將牛仔褲弄干凈而我卻永遠不能……而且可以在任何時候盛出冰激凌。
Through the years, my mother's hands have put in countless hours of toil, and most of hers were before automatic washers!
這么多年來，媽媽的手做了多少家務!而且在自動洗衣機出現(xiàn)以前她已經(jīng)操勞了絕大多數(shù)時間。
Now, my own children are grown and gone. Mom no longer has Dad, and on special occasions, I find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her. So it was that late on Thanksgiving Eve, as I drifted into sleep in the bedroom of my youth, a familiar hand hesitantly stole across my face to brush the hair from my forehead. Then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my brow.
現(xiàn)在，我的孩子都已經(jīng)長大，離開了家。爸爸去世了，有些時候，我睡在媽媽的隔壁房間。一次感恩節(jié)前夕的深夜，我睡在年輕時的臥室里，一只熟悉的手有些猶豫地、悄悄地略過我的臉，從我額頭上撥開頭發(fā)，然后一個吻，輕輕地印在我的眉毛上。
In my memory, for the thousandth time, I recalled the night my surly young voice complained: "Don't do that anymore —— your hands are too rough!" Catching Mom's hand in hand, I blurted out how sorry I was for that night. I thought she'd remember, as I did. But Mom didn't know what I was talking about. She had forgotten —— and forgiven —— long ago.
在我的記憶中，無數(shù)次，想起那晚我粗暴、年青的聲音：“別再這樣了——你的手太粗糙了!”抓住媽媽的手，我沖口而出因為那晚，我是多么后悔。我以為她想起來了，象我一樣。但媽媽不知道我在說些什么。她已經(jīng)在很久以前就忘了這事，并早就原諒了我。
That night, I fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands. And the guilt I had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.
那晚，我?guī)е鴮厝崮赣H和體貼雙手的感激入睡。這許多年來我的負罪感已經(jīng)消失無蹤。
感人的英語文章篇【2】：點點滴滴的父愛
Occasionally, without warning, the drunken wreckage of my father would wash up on our doorstep, late at night, stammering, laughing, reeking of booze. Bang! Bang! Bang! Beating on the door, pleading to my mother to open it.
有時候，在毫無預兆的情況下，父親會半夜醉醺醺地出現(xiàn)在我們家門口，結(jié)結(jié)巴巴地講著酒話，時而大笑幾聲，滿嘴酒氣。砰!砰!砰!大力敲著門，懇求母親為他開門。
He was on his way home from drinking, gambling, or some combination thereof, squandering money that we could have used and wasting time that we desperately needed.
他要么剛剛喝完酒回來，或賭了幾把，要么兩者皆有。他揮霍著我們本可以用于日常開銷的血汗錢，還浪費了我們迫切需要的時間——和父親在一起的時間。
It was the late-1970s. My parents were separated. My mother was now raising a gaggle of boys on her own. She was a newly minted schoolteacher. He was a juke-joint musician-turned-construction worker.
那是20世紀70年代末。我的父母離婚了。那時，母親獨自一人撫養(yǎng)著我們幾個兒子。她是一位新上任的老師。父親原本是一名鄉(xiāng)間酒館的駐場樂師，后來成了建筑工人。
He spouted off about what he planned to do for us, buy for us. In fact, he had no intention of doing anything. The one man who was supposed to be genetically programmed to love us, in fact, lacked the understanding of what it truly meant to love a child—or to hurt one.
他喋喋不休地說自己計劃為我們做什么、買什么。事實上，他根本不打算做任何事情。一個在血緣關系上本應該愛我們的人，實際上并不懂得對孩子而言什么才是真正的愛，也不知道什么是傷害。
To him, this was a harmless game that kept us excited and begging. In fact, it was a cruel, corrosive deception that subtly and unfairly shifted the onus of his lack of emotional and financial investment from him to us. I lost faith in his words and in him. I wanted to stop caring, but I couldn’t.
對他來說，這是一種并無惡意的游戲，它讓我們時而興奮，時而覺得像在乞討。但這實際上是一種侵蝕性的殘酷欺騙，它巧妙卻又不公平地將他對我們?nèi)狈Ω星楹臀镔|(zhì)投入這一責任轉(zhuǎn)移到我們身上。我不相信他的話，對他完全不信任。我想不去在乎他，但我做不到。
Maybe it was his own complicated relationship to his father and his father’s family that rendered him cold. Maybe it was the pain and guilt associated with a life of misfortune. Who knows. Whatever it was, it stole him from us, and particularly from me.
也許是他與自己的父親及其復雜的家庭關系，使他變得冷酷。也許是他生活的不幸所造成的痛苦和內(nèi)疚使然。誰知道呢。不管是什么，反正它把他從我們這里偷走了，特別是從我這里。
While my brothers talked ad nauseam about breaking and fixing things, I spent many of my evenings reading and wondering. My favorite books were a set of encyclopedias given by my uncle. They allowed me to explore the world beyond my world, to travel without leaving, to dream dreams greater than my life would otherwise have supported.
當我的兄弟們沒完沒了地談論怎樣拆解破壞再重修東西時，我卻在許許多多個晚上潛心閱讀和思考。我最喜歡的書是我叔叔給的一套百科全書。這些書讓我探索超越我成長天地以外的大世界，足不出戶隨心旅行，做那些遠非我生活所能承載的美夢。
But losing myself in my own mind also meant that I was completely lost to my father.
但沉醉在自我意識里，也意味著在父親眼中我變得完全陌生了。
He could relate to my brothers’ tactile approaches to the world but not to my cerebral one. Not understanding me, he simply ignored me—not just emotionally, but physically as well. Never once did he hug me, never once a pat on the back or a hand on the shoulder or a tousling of the hair.
他能明白我兄弟們那種打打鬧鬧闖世界的方式，卻從不懂我心田開智慧的那一套。他不理解我，就干脆無視我——不僅情感關懷欠奉，對我根本視若無睹。他從來沒有擁抱過我，從沒拍過我的后背，也不會搭我的肩膀或撥弄一下我的頭發(fā)。
My best memories of him were from his episodic attempts at engagement.
他留給我的最美好回憶是他時不時地嘗試和我們接觸。
During the longest of these episodes, once every month or two, he would come pick us up and drive us down the interstate to Trucker’s Paradise, a seedy, smoke-filled, truck stop with gas pumps, a convenience store, a small dining area and a game room through a door in the back.
這些插曲中持續(xù)時間最長的是，每隔一兩個月，他會來接我們，沿著州際公路驅(qū)車把我們帶到卡車司機樂園。這是一個破爛、煙霧繚繞的載貨汽車停車場，有加油站、一家便利店、一個小小的用餐區(qū)，還有穿過背后一扇門即可到達的一間游戲室。
My dad gave each of us a handful of quarters, and we played until they were gone. He sat up front in the dining area, drinking coffee and being particular about the restaurant’s measly offerings.
父親給我們每個人一把硬幣，我們一直玩到輸光硬幣才停下來。他就坐在用餐區(qū)前面，一邊喝咖啡，一邊挑剔著餐廳里食物的份量太少。
I loved these days. To me, Trucker’s Paradise was paradise. The quarters and the games were fun but easily forgotten. It was the presence of my father that was most treasured. But, of course, these trips were short-lived. And so it was. Every so often he would make some sort of effort, but every time it wouldn’t last.
我喜歡那些日子。對我來說，卡車司機樂園的確是一個天堂。硬幣和游戲充滿了樂趣，只是容易被遺忘。最寶貴的是父親能來。但是，當然了，好景不長。事實的確如此。時而，他會努力擠出時間，但每次都不會持續(xù)很長時間。
It wasn’t until I was much older that I would find something that I would be able to cling to as evidence of my father’s love.
直到年齡漸長，我才找到一些可以體現(xiàn)其父愛的證據(jù)。
When the Commodore 64 personal computer debuted, I convinced myself that I had to have it even though its price was out of my mother’s range. So I decided to earn the money myself. I mowed every yard I could find that summer for a few dollars each, yet it still wasn’t enough. So my dad agreed to help me raise the rest of the money by driving me to one of the watermelon farms south of town, loading up his truck with wholesale melons and driving me around to sell them.
當Commodore 64型個人電腦上市時，我下定決心要買一臺，即使它的價格超出了我母親的支付能力。于是我決定自己賺錢。那年夏天，我給能找到的每一個庭院割草，每家賺幾美元，但錢還是不夠。于是父親答應幫我去籌集剩下的錢。他驅(qū)車帶我去鎮(zhèn)上南面的一家西瓜農(nóng)場，把批發(fā)買來的西瓜裝上卡車，帶著我去附近的地方把西瓜賣出去。
He came for me before daybreak. We made small talk, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he was talking to me was all that mattered. I was a teenager by then, but this was the first time that I had ever spent time alone with him. He laughed and repeatedly introduced me as “my boy,” a phrase he relayed with a palpable sense of pride. It was one of the best days of my life.
天亮前，他來接我。我們閑聊了一會兒，但這不是重點。重要的是他和我聊天。那時我已是一個青少年，但那卻是我第一次與他獨處。他笑著，并多次在向別人介紹 “這是我的兒子，”這樣四個字，被他用一種明顯的自豪語氣傳達著。那是我生命中最美好的時光。
Although he had never told me that he loved me, I would cling to that day as the greatest evidence of that fact. He had never intended me any wrong. He just didn’t know how to love me right. He wasn’t a mean man.
雖然他從未說過他愛我，但我會認定，那天是他愛我這一事實成立的最大證據(jù)。他從沒想過對我造成任何傷害。他只是不知道用什么方式來愛我。他并不是一個壞心腸的人。
So I took these random episodes and clung to them like a thing most precious, squirreling them away for the long stretches of coldness when a warm memory would prove most useful.
所以我拾起這些偶然出現(xiàn)的片段，并堅持認為它們是最珍貴的東西。我將它們珍藏著，在冷漠的記憶長河中，這些溫暖的片段最為窩心。
It just goes to show that no matter how estranged the father, no matter how deep the damage, no matter how shattered the bond, there is still time, still space, still a need for even the smallest bit of evidence of a father’s love.
我的經(jīng)歷只是表明：不管父親曾經(jīng)與你如何疏遠，無論他對你造成了多深的傷害，無論你們之間的紐帶是如何破裂的，你仍有時間、有空間，并且有必要去找尋哪怕是能證明父愛的最小的證據(jù)。
感人的英語文章篇【3】：在同一個屋檐下 Under the Same Roof
Two years ago, I drove a taxi for a living. One night I went to pick up a passenger 2:30 A.M. When I arrived to collect, I found the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
I walked to the door and knocked, “Just a minute,” answered a weak, elderly voice.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her eighties stood before me. By her side was a small suitcase.
I took the suitcase to the car, and then returned to help the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the car.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. “It's nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”
“Oh, you're such a good man.” She said. When we got into the taxi, she gave me an address, and then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”
“It's not the shortest way,” I answered quickly.
“Oh, I'm in no hurry,” she said. “I'm on my way to a hospice(臨終醫(yī)院). I don't have any family left. The doctor says I don’t have very long.”
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter(計價器).
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked, the neighborhood where she had lived, and the furniture shop that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow down in front of a particular building and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
At dawn, she suddenly said,” I'm tired. Let's go now.”
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I said.
“You have to make a living,” she answered. “Oh, there are other passengers,” I answered.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. Our hug ended with her remark, “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy.”
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