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學(xué)習(xí)啦 > 學(xué)習(xí)英語(yǔ) > 英語(yǔ)閱讀 > 英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌 > 關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)欣賞

關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)欣賞

時(shí)間: 韋彥867 分享

關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)欣賞

  詩(shī)歌是一種典型的文學(xué)形式,它既屬于文學(xué),又是一種藝術(shù)。古今中外,對(duì)于詩(shī)歌的研究從未間斷,我們?cè)谘芯康倪^程中發(fā)現(xiàn)詩(shī)歌的美,同時(shí)又在前人研究的基礎(chǔ)上創(chuàng)造出更好的詩(shī)歌作品。小編精心收集了關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī),供大家欣賞學(xué)習(xí)!

  關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)篇1

  Counting What the Cactus Contains

  by Pattiann Rogers

  Elf owl, cactus wren, fruit flies incubating

  In the only womb they'll ever recognize.

  Shadow for the sand rat, spines

  And barbary ribs clenched with green wax.

  Seven thousand thorns, each a water slide,

  A wooden tongue licking the air dry.

  Inside, early morning mist captured intact,

  The taste of drizzle sucked

  And sunsplit. Whistle

  Of the red-tailed hawk at midnight, rush

  Of the leaf-nosed bat, the soft slip

  Of fog easing through sand held in tandem.

  Counting, the vertigo of its attitudes

  Across the evening; in the wood of its latticed bones——

  The eye sockets of every saint of thirst;

  In the gullet of each night-blooming flower——the crucifix

  Of the arid.

  In its core, a monastery of cells, a brotherhood

  Of electrons, a column of expanding darkness

  Where matter migrates and sparks whorl,

  And travel has no direction, where distance

  Bends backward over itself and the ascension

  Of Venus, the stability of Polaris, are crucial.

  The cactus, containing

  Whatever can be said to be there,

  Plus the measurable tremble of its association

  With all those who have been counting.

  關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)篇2

  This is a Wonderful Poem

  by David Wagoner

  Come at it carefully, don't trust it, that isn't its right name,

  It's wearing stolen rags, it's never been washed, its breath

  Would look moss-green if it were really breathing,

  It won't get out of the way, it stares at you

  Out of eyes burnt gray as the sidewalk,

  Its skin is overcast with colorless dirt,

  It has no distinguishing marks, no I.D. cards,

  It wants something of yours but hasn't decided

  Whether to ask for it or just take it,

  There are no policemen, no friendly neighbors,

  No peacekeeping busybodies to yell for, only this

  Thing standing between you and the place you were headed,

  You have about thirty seconds to get past it, around it,

  Or simply to back away and try to forget it,

  It won't take no for an answer: try hitting it first

  And you'll learn what's trembling in its torn pocket.

  Now, what do you want to do about it?

  關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)篇3

  This Living Hand

  by John Keats

  This living hand, now warm and capable

  Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

  And in the icy silence of the tomb,

  So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

  That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood

  So in my veins red life might stream again,

  And thou be conscience-calmed——see here it is

  I hold it towards you.

  關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)篇4

  This Morning

  by Charles Simic

  Enter without knocking, hard-working ant.

  I'm just sitting here mulling over

  What to do this dark, overcast day?

  It was a night of the radio turned down low,

  Fitful sleep, vague, troubling dreams.

  I woke up lovesick and confused.

  I thought I heard Estella in the garden singing

  And some bird answering her,

  But it was the rain. Dark tree tops swaying

  And whispering. "Come to me my desire,"

  I said. And she came to me by and by,

  Her breath smelling of mint, her tongue

  Wetting my cheek, and then she vanished.

  Slowly day came, a gray streak of daylight

  To bathe my hands and face in.

  Hours passed, and then you crawled

  Under the door, and stopped before me.

  You visit the same tailors the mourners do,

  Mr. Ant. I like the silence between us,

  The quiet——that holy state even the rain

  Knows about. Listen to her begin to fall,

  As if with eyes closed,

  Muting each drop in her wild-beating heart.

  關(guān)于簡(jiǎn)單易讀的英文詩(shī)篇5

  Country Fair

  by Charles Simic

  If you didn't see the six-legged dog,

  It doesn't matter.

  We did, and he mostly lay in the corner.

  As for the extra legs,

  One got used to them quickly

  And thought of other things.

  Like, what a cold, dark night

  To be out at the fair.

  Then the keeper threw a stick

  And the dog went after it

  On four legs, the other two flapping behind,

  Which made one girl shriek with laughter.

  She was drunk and so was the man

  Who kept kissing her neck.

  The dog got the stick and looked back at us.

  And that was the whole show.

  
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