唯美英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌精選大全
詩(shī)歌有短小精煉、節(jié)奏感強(qiáng)等特點(diǎn)。在初中英語(yǔ)教學(xué)過(guò)程中通過(guò)詩(shī)歌欣賞能夠充分激發(fā)學(xué)生對(duì)學(xué)習(xí)英語(yǔ)的興趣,使得學(xué)生能夠更好地學(xué)習(xí)語(yǔ)法與單詞,融入情感教育。小編精心收集了唯美英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌，供大家欣賞學(xué)習(xí)!
唯美英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌：Zoo
Mark Irwin
In her old age, Mother enjoys going to the zoo
as the trees let loose their yellow leaves
and stand like furniture among the grazing animals
who stare from a long distance. Often I think
this could be a story she's telling me as we walk
through doorways catching fire, or sit on a stone bench
growing larger and more cold, watching the little clouds
our words make, and in the distance -- buffalo, built
of the earth, with their horns made of rock, their coats
of dried grass. Only drama without movement
is beautiful, said Simone Weil, speaking of Lear, and soon
everything's ablaze and we're running toward youth,
and the skyline of a city, its fossil, while animals, shrieking,
stampede past us, and mother calls out their names,
zebra, buffalo, gazelle, ever so clearly, then enters
into shadow with them, that diorama we call memory.
唯美英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌：Bedouin of the London Evening
Rosemary Tonks
Ten years in your cafés and your bedrooms
Great city, filled with wind and dust!
Bedouin of the London evening,
On the way to a restaurant my youth was lost.
And like a medium who falls into a trance
So deep, she can be scratched to death
By her Familiar -- at its leisure!
I have lain rotting in a dressing-gown
While being savaged (horribly) by wasted youth.
I have been young too long, and in a dressing-gown
My private modern life has gone to waste.
唯美英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌：Lights
Mark Irwin
swimming the earth at dusk and prickling the distance
of the near town. In the jigsaw puzzle of the falls I could
feel a fine mist. Driving I think of it now -- snapping those
last pieces in -- and how history makes things small. The Apollo
mission and moonwalk reduced to a few stock phrases. Finally
everything just seems made of words, but some call out to you.
Bees prowling the lobelia's sapphire falls, or that boy's arc of golden
piss. I once watched his unborn head crown and saw the prunish
face scream, reddening with seconds of air. The slick hair
smelled of roses still arriving, then his parents looked deeply
into each other's mouth for nights, days, years closing around
the swing set, bicycles and cars, the pots and pans in the kitchen,
the chipped china, glasses, the hanging spoons, and the way
the jam jars continue to gather that house's mansioning glow.
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