優(yōu)美英文詩歌漢英對照
英語詩歌是英語語言的精華。它以最凝練的文字傳遞時間與空間、物質(zhì)與精神、理智與情感。詩歌本身包含的豐富社會生活內(nèi)容和藝術(shù)內(nèi)涵，詩歌語言的獨特的美與和諧都使它們具有無窮的魅力。下面學(xué)習(xí)啦小編為大家?guī)韮?yōu)美英文詩歌漢英對照，歡迎大家閱讀!
優(yōu)美英文詩歌漢英對照：回答
卑鄙是卑鄙者的通行證，
高尚是高尚者的墓志銘，
看吧，在那鍍金的天空中，
飄滿了死者彎曲的倒影。
冰川紀過去了，
為什么到處都是冰凌?
好望角發(fā)現(xiàn)了，
為什么死海里千帆相競?
我來到這個世界上，
只帶著紙、繩索和身影，
為了在審判之前，
宣讀那些被判決的聲音。
告訴你吧，世界
我--不--相--信!
縱使你腳下有一千名挑戰(zhàn)者，
那就把我算作第一千零一名。
我不相信天是藍的，
我不相信雷的回聲，
我不相信夢是假的，
我不相信死無報應(yīng)。
如果海洋注定要決堤，
就讓所有的苦水都注入我心中，
如果陸地注定要上升，
就讓人類重新選擇生存的峰頂。
新的轉(zhuǎn)機和閃閃星斗，
正在綴滿沒有遮攔的天空。
那是五千年的象形文字，
那是未來人們凝視的眼睛。
Cruelty is the ID pass of the cruel,
honesty the grave stone of the honest.
Look, in the sky plated gold,
crooked reflections of all the dead float around.
The glacial epoch is over,
so why is there ice everywhere?
Good Hope was rounded a long time ago,
so where are these thousands of boats racing on the Dead Sea?
I came into this world
with only blank pages, rope and my fingers;
therefore, before final judgements are given,
I need to speak in all the voices of the defendants.
Just let me say, world,
I--don't--believe!
If a thousand challengers are under your feet
count me as challenger one-thousand-and-one.
I don't believe the sky is always blue;
I don't believe it was thunder echoing;
I don't believe all dreaming is false;
I don't believe the dead cannot bring judgement.
If the sea is doomed someday to break its levees
my heart must flood with all the bitter waters.
If the land is destined to form the hills again,
let real human beings learn to choose the higher ground.
The latest, favorable turnings, the twinkling stars
studding the naked sky,
are pictographs five-thousand years old.
They are the eyes of the future staring at us now.
優(yōu)美英文詩歌漢英對照：古寺
消失的鐘聲
結(jié)成蛛網(wǎng)，在裂縫的柱子里
擴散成一圈圈年輪
沒有記憶，石頭
空蒙的山谷里傳播回聲的
石頭，沒有記憶
當小路繞開這里的時候
龍和怪鳥也飛走了
從房檐上帶走喑啞的鈴鐺
荒草一年一度
生長，那么漠然
不在乎它們屈從的主人
是僧侶的布鞋，還是風
石碑殘缺，上面的文字已經(jīng)磨損
仿佛只有在一場大火之中
才能辨認，也許
會隨著一道生者的目光
烏龜在泥土中復(fù)活
馱著沉重的秘密，爬出門檻
The long ago songs of a bell
weaved this spider web; in the column's crevices,
grown outward, one sees annual rings there for the counting.
No memories are here; stones
that merely scattered the echoes in this mountain valley,
have no memories.
That little path, even, by-passed it;
its dragons and strange birds are gone.
They took with them the silent bells that hung from the eaves.
They took the unrecorded legends of the place, too.
The words on the walls are all worn clean and torn.
Maybe if it caught on fire
one could read the words on the inside.
See the annual growths of the wild grasses,
so indifferent.
They don't care if they submit to any master,
to the shoes of the old monks,
or to the winds, either.
Out front the sky is held up by a broken stone tablet.
Still, led by the gaze of some living person,
the tortoise may revive and
come out carrying his heavy secret,
crawl right out there on the temple's threshold.
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