有關英語詩歌入門欣賞

　　詩以高度凝結的語言表達著人們的喜怒哀樂,用其特有的節奏與方式影響著人們的精神世界。下面是小編帶來的，歡迎閱讀!

　　篇一

　　by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

　　I heard the bells on Christmas Day

　　Their old familiar carols play,

　　And wild and sweet

　　The words repeat

　　Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

　　And thought how, as the day had come,

　　The belfries of all Christendom

　　Had rolled along

　　The unbroken song

　　Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

　　Till, ringing, singing on its way,

　　The world revolved from night to day,

　　A voice, a chime

　　A chant sublime

　　Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

　　Then from each black accursed mouth

　　The cannon thundered in the South,

　　And with the sound

　　The carols drowned

　　Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

　　It was as if an earthquake rent

　　The hearth-stones of a continent,

　　And made forlorn

　　The households born

　　Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

　　And in despair I bowed my head;

　　"There is no peace on earth," I said;

　　"For hate is strong,

　　And mocks the song

　　Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

　　Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

　　"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!

　　The Wrong shall fail,

　　The Right prevail,

　　With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

　　篇二

　　by Thom Gunn

　　The snail pushes through a green

　　night, for the grass is heavy

　　with water and meets over

　　the bright path he makes, where rain

　　has darkened the earth's dark. He

　　moves in a wood of desire,

　　pale antlers barely stirring

　　as he hunts. I cannot tell

　　what power is at work, drenched there

　　with purpose, knowing nothing.

　　What is a snail's fury? All

　　I think is that if later

　　I parted the blades above

　　the tunnel and saw the thin

　　trail of broken white across

　　litter, I would never have

　　imagined the slow passion

　　to that deliberate progress.

　　蝸牛感懷

　　蝸牛用觸角推進墨綠色的

　　夜晚，因為草葉上溼漉漉

　　沾滿水珠，耷拉著交織在

　　它推出的明亮小徑，雨在上面

　　使大地的昏暗更加昏暗。它

　　在慾望之林中緩緩蠕動。

　　它捕食時，蒼白的觸角

　　幾乎不動。我無法說出

　　什麼力量起作用，在那裡

　　浸透於百思不解的思緒中。

　　蝸牛的憤懣何在?我僅僅

　　這樣遐想：即使稍後一些時候

　　我撥開蝸牛爬過的路上的葉片，

　　但見它留下的細細痕跡

　　粘著破碎的白色微粒，穿過

　　垃圾碎屑，那我也難以想像

　　伴隨它從容前進的

　　徐遲緩慢的激情。

　　篇三

　　by Robert Burns

　　Chorus

　　For auld lang syne, my dear,

　　For auld lang syne,

　　We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

　　For auld lang syne!

　　Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

　　And never brought to mind?

　　Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

　　And auld lang syne?

　　And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,

　　And surely I'll be mine,

　　And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

　　For auld lang syne!

　　We twa hae run about the braes,

　　And pou'd the gowans fine,

　　But we've wander'd monie a weary fit,

　　Sin' auld lang syne.

　　We twa hae paidl'd in the burn

　　Frae morning sun till dine,

　　But seas between us braid hae roar'd,

　　Sin' auld lang syne.

　　And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,

　　And gie's a hand o' thine;

　　And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,

　　For auld lang syne.

　　往昔的時光

　　合唱為了往昔的時光，老朋友

　　為了往昔的時光，

　　再乾一杯友情的酒，

　　為了往昔的時光。

　　老朋友哪能遺忘，

　　哪能不放在心上?

　　老朋友哪能遺忘，

　　還有往昔的時光?

　　你來痛飲一大杯，

　　我也買酒來相陪。

　　乾一杯友情的酒又何妨?

　　為了往昔的時光。

　　我們曾遨遊山崗，

　　到處將野花拜訪。

　　但以後走上疲憊的旅程，

　　逝去了往昔的時光!

　　我們曾赤腳　過河流，

　　水聲笑語裡將時間忘。

　　如今大海的怒濤把我們隔開，

　　逝去了往昔的時光!

　　忠實的朋友，伸出你的手，

　　讓我們握手聚一堂。

　　再來痛飲一杯歡樂酒，

　　為了往昔的時光!

　　篇四

　　Die Muhle Brennt--Richard

　　by Richard Matthews

　　after a painting by Georg Bazelitz

　　When the red chair suspended in air

　　grazes the top of your head

　　and the white pitcher that rests on the chair

　　neither falls nor spills， you will move

　　to the window， or the empty space

　　in the wall left by the guns on the hill

　　just outside the city， and be amazed

　　at the mill ablaze in the distance，

　　the loud report of dry beams knuckled

　　under heat， the carousel of shadows spun

　　around the orange center of the flames，

　　because you know this cannot happen here

　　or because you know the mill's been on fire

　　for so long that the city's been consumed

　　entirely and the heat from the mill

　　has blistered the red paint on the chair

　　and dried the water from the pitcher，

　　and， if you wait one more instant，

　　afraid that it is too late， it will be too late，

　　and the chair and pitcher will drift

　　through your hair as ash.