超級經典的英文詩歌欣賞

　　詩歌是人類的語言瑰寶,可以提高人的精神修養、藝術修養和語言修養。小編整理了超級經典的英文詩歌，歡迎閱讀!

　　超級經典的英文詩歌篇一

　　Stone Bird

　　by Pattiann Rogers

　　I remember you. You‘re the one

　　who lifted your ancient bones

　　of fossil rock， pulled yourself free

　　of the strata like a plaster figure

　　rising from its own mold， became

　　flesh and feather， took wing，

　　arrested the sky.

　　You‘re the one who， though marble，

　　floated as beautifully as a white

　　blossom on the pond all summer，

　　who， though skeletal and particled

　　like winter， glimmered as solid as a bird

　　of cut crystal in the icy trees.

　　You are redbird—sandstone

　　wings and agate eyes—at dusk.

　　You are greybird—polished granite

　　and pearl eyes—just before dawn，

　　midnight bird with a reflective

　　vacancy of heart like a mirror

　　of pure obsidian.

　　You‘re the one who flew down

　　to that river from the heavens，

　　as if your form alone were the only

　　holy message needed. You were alabaster

　　then in the noonday sun.

　　Once I saw you rise without rising

　　from your prison pedestal

　　in the garden beneath the lime tree.

　　At that moment your ghost

　　in its haunting permeated every

　　regality of the forest with light，

　　reigned with disdain in thin air

　　above the mountain， sank in union

　　with the crosswinds of the sea.

　　I remember you. You‘re the one

　　who entered in through my death

　　as if it were an open window

　　and you were the sound of the serenade

　　being sung outside for me， the words

　　of which， I know now， are of freedom

　　cast in stone forever.

　　超級經典的英文詩歌篇二

　　Such a Good Dancer

　　by Douglas Goetsch

　　Desperate to be part of the night，

　　we jerked like a bunch of spazzes

　　to that screaming eunuch， Michael Jackson.

　　Randi Muelbach kept remarking

　　You're such a good dancer!

　　drawing closer， letting me grab her

　　saggy ass. My boogying was a sort

　　of two-step hip gyration while holding

　　my plastic cup of grain alcohol level.

　　I had perfected the arm that remained still，

　　kept it out like a bird feeder. Randi

　　glued elbows to waist and swung

　　forearms， hands and hips furiously.

　　She was sweating something fierce.

　　Her perfume was foul swamp flowers.

　　From the futon on her floor I watched

　　her pull her dress over her head.

　　Fat and sadly flat-chested，

　　legs already bluing with veins， thick

　　knees knocked in， the way the back

　　wheels of a Volkswagen buckle with a load.

　　Disgusted with myself——two years

　　in college and still a virgin——I would

　　stick my dick in a girl and end that.

　　As she stepped out of her underwear

　　I said， After tonight I don't want us

　　to ever talk again. OK?

　　That's what I said.

　　She looked down at me and said

　　Sure， like it was nothing.

　　Through the cinderblock walls

　　I could hear that whole dorm writhing

　　on a Saturday night. Even Kim Putnam，

　　the born again who wore only long skirts

　　and was losing her hair， was getting banged

　　and moaning like a wild woman.

　　Sometimes it sounded like a crowd

　　ooh-ing and ahh-ing at a car accident;

　　sometimes I heard the night as one fuck

　　xeroxed and traveling room to room

　　like a rumor， or luck——good or bad，

　　either way， I wriggled and fought

　　on top of Randi Muelbach，

　　who kept whispering in my ear

　　Such a good dancer.

　　超級經典的英文詩歌篇三

　　Summer Holiday

　　by Robinson Jeffers

　　When the sun shouts and people abound

　　One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of

　　bronze

　　And the iron age; iron the unstable metal;

　　Steel made of iron， unstable as his mother; the tow-

　　ered-up cities

　　Will be stains of rust on mounds of plaster.

　　Roots will not pierce the heaps for a time， kind rains

　　will cure them，

　　Then nothing will remain of the iron age

　　And all these people but a thigh-bone or so， a poem

　　Stuck in the world's thought， splinters of glass

　　In the rubbish dumps， a concrete dam far off in the

　　mountain……

　　超級經典的英文詩歌篇四

　　Suicide of a Moderate Dictator

　　by Elizabeth Bishop

　　This is a day when truths will out， perhaps;

　　leak from the dangling telephone earphones

　　sapping the festooned switchboards' strength;

　　fall from the windows， blow from off the sills，

　　—the vague， slight unremarkable contents

　　of emptying ash-trays; rub off on our fingers

　　like ink from the un-proof-read newspapers，

　　crocking the way the unfocused photographs

　　of crooked faces do that soil our coats，

　　our tropical-wight coats， like slapped-at moths.

　　Today's a day when those who work

　　are idling. Those who played must work

　　and hurry， too， to get it downe，

　　with little dignity or none.

　　The newspapers are sold; the kiosk shutters

　　crash down. But anyway， in the night

　　the headlines wrote themselves， see， on the streets

　　and sidewalks everywhere; a sediment's splashed

　　even to the first floors of apartment houses.

　　This is a day that's beautiful as well，

　　warm and clear. At seven o'clock I saw

　　the dogs being walked along the famous beach

　　as usual， in a shiny gray-green dawn，

　　leaving their paw prints draining in the wet.

　　The line of breakers was steady and the pinkish，

　　segmented rainbow steadily hung above it.

　　At eight， two little boys were flying kites.