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學(xué)習(xí)啦 > 學(xué)習(xí)英語 > 英語閱讀 > 英語詩歌 > 關(guān)于優(yōu)美的英語詩閱讀

關(guān)于優(yōu)美的英語詩閱讀

時間: 韋彥867 分享

關(guān)于優(yōu)美的英語詩閱讀

  詩歌是一種典型的文學(xué)形式,它既屬于文學(xué),又是一種藝術(shù)。下面是學(xué)習(xí)啦小編帶來的關(guān)于優(yōu)美的英語詩閱讀,歡迎閱讀!

  關(guān)于優(yōu)美的英語詩閱讀篇一

  Nigger lipson each fore arm

  by Martín Espada

  Niggerlips was the high school name for me.

  So called by Douglas

  the car mechanic, with green tattoos

  on each forearm,

  and the choir of round pink faces

  that grinned deliciously

  from the back row of classrooms,

  droned over by teachers

  checking attendance too slowly.

  Douglas would brag

  about cruising his car

  near sidewalks of black children

  to point an unloaded gun,

  to scare niggers

  like crows off a tree,

  he'd say.

  My great-grandfather Luis

  was un negrito too,

  a shoemaker in the coffee hills

  of Puerto Rico, 1900.

  The family called him a secret

  and kept no photograph.

  My father remembers

  the childhood white powder

  that failed to bleach

  his stubborn copper skin,

  and the family says

  he is still a fly in milk.

  So Niggerlips has the mouth

  of his great-grandfather,

  the song he must have sung

  as he pounded the leather and nails,

  the heat that courses through copper,

  the stubbornness of a fly in milk,

  and all you have, Douglas,

  is that unloaded gun.

  關(guān)于優(yōu)美的英語詩閱讀篇二

  Next Door weighted by yesterday snow

  by Joan Selinger Sidney

  Oaks drag alongside the road,

  weighted by yesterday‘s snow.

  There‘s Frauka walking alone,

  the hood of her parka

  snow-lit against the trees.

  I pull over. How is he? But before

  I can answer, I see them last

  summer: Frauka, and Father

  leaning on Mother, wanting to believe

  her will can make him well.

  Sitting on the lawn,

  pretending to read, I am unable

  to tell them, My legs won‘t walk.

  Go on without me.

  Eleven years I‘ve protected them—

  Holocaust survivors—by not naming

  my disease. Wishing them dead

  before they‘d see me in a wheelchair.

  Frauka whispers, My younger brother

  died one day before your father.

  Tears rim her eyes, her slim

  body shivers in the wind.

  For a moment we are closer

  in our sorrow than we‘ve ever been.

  關(guān)于優(yōu)美的英語詩閱讀篇三

  Nearing Autobiography

  by Pattiann Rogers

  Those are my bones rifted

  and curled, knees to chin,

  among the rocks on the beach,

  my hands splayed beneath my skull

  in the mud. Those are my rib

  bones resting like white sticks

  wracked on the bank, laid down,

  delivered, rubbed clean

  by river and snow.

  Ethereal as seedless weeds

  in dim sun and frost, I see

  my own bones translucent as locust

  husks, light as spider bones,

  as filled with light as lantern

  bones when the candle flames.

  And I see my bones, facile,

  willing, rolling and clacking,

  reveling like broken shells

  among themselves in a tumbling surf.

  I recognize them, no other's,

  raggedly patterned and wrought,

  peeled as a skeleton of sycamore

  against gray skies, stiff as a fallen

  spruce. I watch them floating

  at night, identical lake slivers

  flush against the same star bones

  drifting in scattered pieces above.

  Everything I assemble, all

  the constructions I have rendered

  are the metal and dust of my locked

  and storied bones. My bald cranium

  shines blind as the moon.

  
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