标签:双语诗歌 相关文章
Amanda: Hi, Mike. What are you reading? Mike: Oh, these are just some books I picked up at a local poetry festival that took place a couple of weeks ago. Even though a lot of what the featured poets read wasn't in English, it was still neat to see th
MUCH have I travelld in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-browd Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet
GREAT spirits now on earth are sojourning; He of the cloud, the cataract, the lake, Who on Helvellyns summit, wide awake, Catches his freshness from Archangels wing: He of the rose, the violet, the spring, The social smile, the chain for Freedoms sak
文本: Father: Damnable business. Do you want a pipe? --: Thank you, no. Father: There's a boy I'm putting through Eton. Gilbert Wannop's boy. --: Oh? Father: For old time's sake. Eton and then his father's old college. Nothing in writing. --: But
Ode on Melancholy NO, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor
Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too hap
Old Meg She was a Gipsy I. OLD MEG she was a Gipsy, And liv'd upon the Moors: Her bed it was the brown heath turf, And her house was out of doors. II. Her apples were swart blackberries, Herr currants pods o'broom; Her wine was dew of the wild white
To Sleep O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight! Shutting with careful fingers and benign Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close, In midst of this thine hymn, m
Ode to Psyche O GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, And pardon that thy secrets should be sung Even into thine own soft-conched ear: Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see The winged Psyche with awaken
To Fanny Brawne, March 1820 Sweetest Fanny, You fear, sometimes, I do not love you so much as you wish? My dear Girl I love you ever and ever and without reserve. The more I have known you the more have I lov'd. In every way - even my jealousies have
To John Taylor, 5th September, 1819 My dear Taylor; This morning I received yours of the 2nd and with it a letter from Hesssey enclosing a Bank post Bill of 30 Poundsan ample sum I assure you: more I had no thought of. You should not have delayed so
❤ 模仿文本:The manuscript may have been preserved in Bavaria, but the individual poems come from all over Europe it seems. Who wrote them? Mainly itinerant students and monks with a taste for satirising the church, although there're a few nam
Poetry is a very beautiful thing. I love reading it. Its very clever. Its like reading a painting. The poet paints beautiful scenes and images with just a few words. I think its amazing how the poet can change our feelings so simply, and can make us
JEFFREY BROWN:And finally tonight, we end where we began, with Afghanistan, but this time through a very different lens, one of language and culture. For many Americans, Afghanistan is a country shrouded in mystery, particularly its women, literally
The Cloud. 云彩 By John Wilson 约翰威尔逊 A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun, 一抹云彩像摇篮一样挂在落日近处, A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow; 深红色的光束染红了辫子状的雪地; Long had I watche
To Tom Keats, 25th June, 1818. Endmoor, Cumbria Here beginneth my journal, this Thursday, the 25th day of June, Anno Domini1818. This morning we arose at 4, and set off in a Scotch mist; put up once under a tree, and in fine, have walked wet and dry
To Tom Keats, 29th June, 1818. Keswick My dear Tom; I cannot make my Journal as distinct and actual as I could wish, from having been engaged in writing to Geroge and therefore I must tell you without circumstances that we proceeded from Ambleside to
Wherein Lies Happiness Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemizd, and free of space. Behold The clear religion of heaven! Fold A rose leaf round thy fing
To George and Tom Keats. Hampstead, Sunday 21st December, 1817 My dear Brothers; I must crave your pardon for not having written ere this. I have had two very pleasant evenings with Dilke yesterday today; and I am at this moment just come from him an
Read the story Alberto's New Neighbours by Chris Rose Alberto took one look at his new neighbours and knew that his life was going to get more difficult. He watched them arrive in their big, noisy car and watched them get out. There they were, two of