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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 > 經(jīng)典優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌欣賞

經(jīng)典優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌欣賞

時(shí)間: 韋彥867 分享

經(jīng)典優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌欣賞

  英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌是英語(yǔ)語(yǔ)言的精華。它以最凝練的文字傳遞時(shí)間與空間、物質(zhì)與精神、理智與情感。詩(shī)歌本身包含的豐富社會(huì)生活內(nèi)容和藝術(shù)內(nèi)涵,詩(shī)歌語(yǔ)言的獨(dú)特的美與和諧都使它們具有無(wú)窮的魅力。學(xué)習(xí)啦小編分享經(jīng)典優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌,希望可以幫助大家!

  經(jīng)典優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌:The Interrogation

  Amit Majmudar

  When they leathered his arm to the armrest and began

  like manicurists in a nail salon

  he says that he "retreated" from his hand

  until the part of him that dwelt there once was gone

  and heard no news from his own outer reaches.

  In his memoir of those years, he sketches

  the tricks he used, one of which was "vision."

  Maybe it's better we present his version:

  "I imagined my arm as a slope I had to scale,

  shaft of the humerus as smooth as shale

  but white like bone and giving way like sand

  wherever I set foot. I couldn't stand,

  couldn't take a breather, or I'd ride my own

  disintegration down and end up on

  the shore -- which was my hand, my fingernails.

  I crested my shoulder, rested on its knoll.

  I looked down then and saw the pain as men

  charging uphill to where I hid my sense

  of pain. At once I stomped a foot to see

  the whole arm crack, calve, crash into the sea,

  disarticulated, part of me no more.

  I did this for the other arm and for

  my feet and testicles and eyes until

  I found myself on a Pacific atoll

  that had no latitude, no longitude.

  I built a hut, I scuttled the one canoe.

  I saw a sun that weighed a kiloton

  and the power cord by which it swung."

  經(jīng)典優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌:The Halo

  C. Dale Young

  In the paintings left to us

  by the Old Masters, the halo,

  a smallish cloud of light, clung

  to the head, carefully framed the faces

  of mere mortals made divine.

  Accident? My body launched

  by a car's incalculable momentum?

  It ended up outside the car. I had no idea then

  what it was like to lose days, to wake

  and find everything had changed.

  Through glass, this body went

  through the glass window, the seatbelt

  snapping my neck. Not the hanged man,

  not a man made divine but more human.

  I remember those pins buried in my skull,

  the cold metal frame surrounding my head,

  metal reflecting a small fire, a glow. All

  was changed. In that bed, I was a locust.

  I was starving. And how could I not be?

  I, I . . . I am still ravenous.

  經(jīng)典優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌:The Mind Is Its Own Place

  Ann Townsend

  Mated and unmated,

  starlings swarm the willow

  with their devotions

  until the tree roils

  and sways, wing-beats

  sounding the torrent

  through which they swim.

  Dopamine, paroxetine,

  an injection of adrenaline

  into the bloodstream:

  these deliver the dissident

  fuel I crave for the mind's

  pleasure, and for its pain.

  Call it one song indispensable

  to trouble the branching

  arteries. The willow divinates

  toward water, switching

  in the breeze; it grazes

  the edge but cannot

  rest there. My fingertips

  pressed against my temples:

  ten points of sensation,

  a vaulted cage where

  starlings congregate

  to rustle their chaos,

  their alphabet blown to bits

  in the wind's rush.

  Yes, you heard me.

  Like an aviary, Plato said,

  the mind is full of birds.

  
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