學(xué)習(xí)啦 > 學(xué)習(xí)英語 > 英語閱讀 > 英語詩歌 > 關(guān)于著名英文詩歌朗誦精選

關(guān)于著名英文詩歌朗誦精選

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關(guān)于著名英文詩歌朗誦精選

  詩歌是人類的語言瑰寶,可以提高人的精神修養(yǎng)、藝術(shù)修養(yǎng)和語言修養(yǎng)。學(xué)習(xí)啦小編整理了關(guān)于著名英文詩歌,歡迎閱讀!

  關(guān)于著名英文詩歌篇一

  Once in the 40's

  by William Stafford

  We were alone one night on a long

  road in Montana. This was in winter, a big

  night, far to the stars. We had hitched,

  my wife and I, and left our ride at

  a crossing to go on. Tired and cold but

  brave—we trudged along. This, we said,

  was our life, watched over, allowed to go

  where we wanted. We said we'd come back some time

  when we got rich. We'd leave the others and find

  a night like this, whatever we had to give,

  and no matter how far, to be so happy again

  關(guān)于著名英文詩歌篇二

  National Poetry Month

  by Elaine Equi

  When a poem speaks by itself,it has a spark

  and can be considered part of a divine conversation.

  Sometimes the poem weaves like a basket around two loaves of yellow bread.

  "Break off a piece of this April with its raisin nipples," it says.

  "And chew them slowly under your pillow. You belong in bed with me."

  On the other hand,when a poem speaks in the voice of a celebrity

  it is called television or a movie. "There is nothing to see,"

  say Robert De Niro,though his poem bleeds all along the edges

  like a puddle crudely outlined with yellow tape

  at the crime scene of spring.

  "It is an old poem," he adds.

  "And besides,I was very young when I made it."

  關(guān)于著名英文詩歌篇三

  On Translation

  by Mónica de la Torre

  Not to search for meaning, but to reedify a gesture, an intent.

  As a translator, one grows attached to originals.

  Seldom are choices so purposeful.

  At midday, the translator meets with the poet at a café at the intersection

  where for decades whores and cross-dressers have lined up at night for passers-by toperuse.

  Not a monologue, but an implied conversation.

  The translator's response is delayed.

  The translator asks, the poet answers unrestrictedly.

  Someone watches the hand movements that punctuate the flow of an incomprehensible dialogue.

  They're speaking about the poet's disillusionment with Freud.

  One after another, vivid descriptions of the poet's dreams begin to pour out of his mouth.

  There's no signal of irony in his voice.

  Nor a hint of astonishment, nor a suggestion of hidden meanings,

  rather a belief in the detritus theory.

  關(guān)于著名英文詩歌篇四

  One First Try and then Another

  by Brian Blanchfield

  Careful, a night set on edge

  the European tradition of virtuoso

  and the raw desire to articulate.

  I pushed them both backward on the bed in the end

  and each played on, one first

  try and then another.

  Soft then on succession thought.

  The instrument all torso is loved where are held

  fitting the flown down housemartin with a reed

  or belying midway uncertainty

  in tandem the hands, and acts adolescent.

  A natural vaults a natural

  development, his farther back barn jacket

  American and strewn as if spare.

  Thought soft the crescendo all along

  saws, neither stroke inward or from the heart

  except it begins unbecoming

  building in roomy youth.

  We have our no, libido, go.

  Then all limbs arms and loudly I don't want to

  play down the skillless touch

  關(guān)于著名英文詩歌篇五

  Natural Causes

  by Mark Cox

  Because my son saw the round hay bales——

  1200 pounds apiece, shrink-wrapped in white plastic——

  lining the fields,

  we have had to search all evening

  for marshmallows.

  Two stores were out. Another

  had one stale and shrunken bag.

  The fourth had three bags, but no wood for fire,

  so we went back to the first.

  And I needed newspaper to start the kindling,

  which is how I know Earl Softy died Monday,

  at home, in his sleep, of natural causes. So rarely

  we know how we know what we know.

  Don't turn the page. Sit with us awhile,

  here by the fire in New Hampshire.

  Have a marshmallow.

  Because my wife and I love each other

  and wanted something of, and more than, ourselves;

  because my little son has imagined heaven in the pasture land,

  even death tastes sweet

  
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