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學(xué)習(xí)啦 > 學(xué)習(xí)英語(yǔ) > 英語(yǔ)其它 > 詩(shī)歌欣賞: To A Mouse by:Robert Burns

詩(shī)歌欣賞: To A Mouse by:Robert Burns

時(shí)間: 楚欣650 分享

詩(shī)歌欣賞: To A Mouse by:Robert Burns

  作者:羅伯特·彭斯(Robert Burns,1759—1796年),蘇格蘭農(nóng)民詩(shī)人,在英國(guó)文學(xué)史上占有特殊重要的地位。他復(fù)活并豐富了蘇格蘭民歌,他的詩(shī)歌富有音樂(lè)性,可以歌唱。彭斯生于蘇格蘭民族面臨被異族征服的時(shí)代,因此他的詩(shī)歌充滿了激進(jìn)的民主、自由的思想。詩(shī)人生活在破產(chǎn)的農(nóng)村,和貧苦的農(nóng)民血肉相連,他的詩(shī)歌歌頌了故國(guó)家鄉(xiāng)的秀美,抒寫(xiě)了勞動(dòng)者純樸的友誼和愛(ài)情。

  Robert Burns To A Mouse

  英文詩(shī)歌To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough

  by Robert Burns

  Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,

  O, what a panic's in thy breastie!

  Thou need na start awa sae hasty,

  Wi' bickering brattle!

  I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,

  Wi' murd'ring pattle!

  I'm truly sorry man's dominion,

  Has broken nature's social union,

  An' justifies that ill opinion,

  Which makes thee startle

  At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,

  An' fellow-mortal!

  I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;

  What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!

  A daimen icker in a thrave

  'S a sma' request;

  I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,

  An' never miss't!

  Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!

  It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!

  An' naething, now, to big a new ane,

  O' foggage green!

  An' bleak December's winds ensuin,

  Baith snell an' keen!

  Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,

  An' weary winter comin fast,

  An' cozie here, beneath the blast,

  Thou thought to dwell-

  Till crash! the cruel coulter past

  Out thro' thy cell.

  That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,

  Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!

  Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,

  But house or hald,

  To thole the winter's sleety dribble,

  An' cranreuch cauld!

  But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,

  In proving foresight may be vain;

  The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men

  Gang aft agley,

  An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,

  For promis'd joy!

  Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me

  The present only toucheth thee:

  But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.

  On prospects drear!

  An' forward, tho' I canna see,

  I guess an' fear!

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