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世界上最美的英语诗歌带翻译阅读

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世界上最美的英语诗歌带翻译阅读

  英语诗歌往往寄托着作者浓烈的情感,有些诗歌既唯美动人,又感人肺腑,今天学习啦小编在这里为大家介绍一些世界上最美的英语诗歌,希望大家会喜欢这些英语诗歌!

  世界上最美的英语诗歌篇一

  Night on the Prairies

  by Walt Whitman

  Night on the prairies,

  The supper is over, the fire on the ground burns low,

  The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets;

  I walk by myself--I stand and look at the stars, which I think now

  never realized before.

  Now I absorb immortality and peace,

  I admire death and test propositions.

  How plenteous! how spiritual! how resume!

  The same old man and soul--the same old aspirations, and the same content.

  I was thinking the day most splendid till I saw what the not-day

  exhibited,

  I was thinking this globe enough till there sprang out so noiseless

  around me myriads of other globes.

  Now while the great thoughts of space and eternity fill me I will

  measure myself by them,

  And now touch'd with the lives of other globes arrived as far along

  as those of the earth,

  Or waiting to arrive, or pass'd on farther than those of the earth,

  I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my own life,

  Or the lives of the earth arrived as far as mine, or waiting to arrive.

  O I see now that life cannot exhibit all to me, as the day cannot,

  I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.

  世界上最美的英语诗歌篇二

  A Lane in the Rain

  Dai Wangshu

  A Lane in the Rain

  Dai Wangshu

  Alone holding an oil-paper umbrella,

  I wander along a long

  Solitary lane in the rain,

  Hoping to encounter

  A girl like a bouquet of lilacs

  Gnawed by anxiety and resentment.

  A girl

  The color of lilacs,

  A Lane in the Rain

  The fragrance of lilacs,

  The worries of lilacs,

  Feeling melancholy in the rain,

  A Lane in the Rain

  Plaintive and hesitating.

  Silently she comes closer,

  Closer,giving me

  A Lane in the Rain

  A glance like a sigh;

  Then she floats past

  Like a dream,

  Dreary and blank like a dream.

  Like a lilac

  Floating past in a dream,

  the girl floats past me;

  Silently she goes further and further,

  To the crumbling wall,

  Out of the lane in the rain.

  In the mournful melody of the rain,

  Her color has faded,

  Her fragrance has disppeared,

  Vanished into the void;

  Even her glance like a sigh,

  Melancholy like lilacs.

  Alone holding an oil-paper umbrella,

  I wander along a long

  Solitary lane in the rain,

  Hoping to pass

  A girl like a bouquet of lilacs

  Gnawed by anxiety and resentment.

  雨巷

  戴望舒

  撑着油纸伞,独自

  彷徨在悠长,悠长

  又寂寥的雨巷,

  我希望逢着

  一个丁香一样的

  结着愁怨的姑娘。

  她是有

  丁香一样的颜色,

  丁香一样的芬芳,

  丁香一样的忧愁,

  在雨中哀怨,

  哀怨又彷徨

  她彷徨在这寂寥的雨巷,

  撑着油纸伞

  象我一样

  象我一样地

  默默行着,

  冷漠,凄凉,又惆怅。

  她默默地走进

  走进,又投出,

  太息一样的眼光,

  她飘过

  象梦一般地

  象梦一般地凄婉迷茫。

  象梦中飘过

  一支丁香地,

  我身旁飘过这女郎;

  她静默地远了,远了,

  到了颓圮的篱墙,

  走尽这雨巷。

  在雨的哀曲中,

  消了她的颜色,

  散了她的芬芳,

  消散了,甚至她的

  太息般的眼光,

  丁香般的惆怅。

  撑着油纸伞,独自

  彷徨在悠长,悠长

  又寂寥的雨巷,

  我希望飘过

  一个丁香一样的

  结着愁怨的姑娘。

  世界上最美的英语诗歌篇三

  Spring Beauties

  Ruth Stone

  The abandoned campus,

  empty brick buildings and early June

  when you came to visit me;

  crossing the states midway,

  the straggled belts of little roads;

  hitchhiking with your portable typewriter.

  The campus, an academy of trees,

  under which some hand, the wind's I guess,

  had scattered the pale light

  of thousands of spring beauties,

  petals stained with pink veins;

  secret, blooming for themselves.

  We sat among them.

  Your long fingers, thin body,

  and long bones of improbable genius;

  some scattered gene as Kafka must have had.

  Your deep voice, this passing dust of miracles.

  That simple that was myself, half conscious,

  as though each moment was a page

  where words appeared; the bent hammer of the type

  struck against the moving ribbon.

  The light air, the restless leaves;

  the ripple of time warped by our longing.

  There, as if we were painted

  by some unknown impressionist.

  春之美神

  露丝斯通

  被摈弃的校园,

  空空的砖瓦房当六月初

  你来看望我;

  穿行于州际途中,

  束带般的小路伸延,

  提着你的便携打字机搭车。

  校园,一个树林的学院,

  在树下有些,我想是风的手,

  已经消散了千百

  春之美神的苍白光线,

  花瓣染上桃红色的血管;

  秘密的,为它们自己开放。

  我们坐在它们中间。

  你那修长的手指,清瘦的身材,

  和未必会是天才的长骨;

  一些象卡夫卡肯定有的分散的基因。

  你深沉的嗓音,通行奇妙尘间。

  单纯如我,神志半醒,

  似乎每一瞬间都是词语出现之页;

  弯型字锤撞击移动的色带。

  清淡的空气,烦躁的树叶;

  我们的渴望翘曲起时间的微澜。

  在那里,好象我们被

  几个无名印象派画家绘入了画面。


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