世界上最美的英語詩歌帶翻譯閱讀

　　英語詩歌往往寄託著作者濃烈的情感，有些詩歌既唯美動人，又感人肺腑，今天小編在這裡為大家介紹一些世界上最美的英語詩歌，希望大家會喜歡這些英語詩歌!

　　世界上最美的英語詩歌篇一

　　Night on the Prairies

　　by Walt Whitman

　　Night on the prairies,

　　The supper is over, the fire on the ground burns low,

　　The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets;

　　I walk by myself--I stand and look at the stars, which I think now

　　never realized before.

　　Now I absorb immortality and peace,

　　I admire death and test propositions.

　　How plenteous! how spiritual! how resume!

　　The same old man and soul--the same old aspirations, and the same content.

　　I was thinking the day most splendid till I saw what the not-day

　　exhibited,

　　I was thinking this globe enough till there sprang out so noiseless

　　around me myriads of other globes.

　　Now while the great thoughts of space and eternity fill me I will

　　measure myself by them,

　　And now touch'd with the lives of other globes arrived as far along

　　as those of the earth,

　　Or waiting to arrive, or pass'd on farther than those of the earth,

　　I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my own life,

　　Or the lives of the earth arrived as far as mine, or waiting to arrive.

　　O I see now that life cannot exhibit all to me, as the day cannot,

　　I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.

　　世界上最美的英語詩歌篇二

　　A Lane in the Rain

　　Dai Wangshu

　　A Lane in the Rain

　　Dai Wangshu

 

　　Alone holding an oil-paper umbrella,

　　I wander along a long

　　Solitary lane in the rain,

　　Hoping to encounter

　　A girl like a bouquet of lilacs

　　Gnawed by anxiety and resentment.

　　A girl

　　The color of lilacs,

　　A Lane in the Rain

　　The fragrance of lilacs,

　　The worries of lilacs,

　　Feeling melancholy in the rain,

　　A Lane in the Rain

　　Plaintive and hesitating.

　　Silently she comes closer,

　　Closer,giving me

　　A Lane in the Rain

　　A glance like a sigh;

　　Then she floats past

　　Like a dream,

　　Dreary and blank like a dream.

　　Like a lilac

　　Floating past in a dream,

　　the girl floats past me;

　　Silently she goes further and further,

　　To the crumbling wall,

　　Out of the lane in the rain.

　　In the mournful melody of the rain,

　　Her color has faded,

　　Her fragrance has disppeared,

　　Vanished into the void;

　　Even her glance like a sigh,

　　Melancholy like lilacs.

　　Alone holding an oil-paper umbrella,

　　I wander along a long

　　Solitary lane in the rain,

　　Hoping to pass

　　A girl like a bouquet of lilacs

　　Gnawed by anxiety and resentment.

　　雨巷

　　戴望舒

　　撐著油紙傘，獨自

　　彷徨在悠長，悠長

　　又寂寥的雨巷，

　　我希望逢著

　　一個丁香一樣的

　　結著愁怨的姑娘。

　　她是有

　　丁香一樣的顏色，

　　丁香一樣的芬芳，

　　丁香一樣的憂愁，

　　在雨中哀怨，

　　哀怨又彷徨

　　她彷徨在這寂寥的雨巷，

　　撐著油紙傘

　　象我一樣

　　象我一樣地

　　默默行著，

　　冷漠，淒涼，又惆悵。

　　她默默地走進

　　走進，又投出，

　　太息一樣的眼光，

　　她飄過

　　象夢一般地

　　象夢一般地悽婉迷茫。

　　象夢中飄過

　　一支丁香地，

　　我身旁飄過這女郎;

　　她靜默地遠了，遠了，

　　到了頹圮的籬牆，

　　走盡這雨巷。

　　在雨的哀曲中，

　　消了她的顏色，

　　散了她的芬芳，

　　消散了，甚至她的

　　太息般的眼光，

　　丁香般的惆悵。

　　撐著油紙傘，獨自

　　彷徨在悠長，悠長

　　又寂寥的雨巷，

　　我希望飄過

　　一個丁香一樣的

　　結著愁怨的姑娘。

　　世界上最美的英語詩歌篇三

　　Spring Beauties

　　Ruth Stone

　　The abandoned campus,

　　empty brick buildings and early June

　　when you came to visit me;

　　crossing the states midway,

　　the straggled belts of little roads;

　　hitchhiking with your portable typewriter.

　　The campus, an academy of trees,

　　under which some hand, the wind's I guess,

　　had scattered the pale light

　　of thousands of spring beauties,

　　petals stained with pink veins;

　　secret, blooming for themselves.

　　We sat among them.

　　Your long fingers, thin body,

　　and long bones of improbable genius;

　　some scattered gene as Kafka must have had.

　　Your deep voice, this passing dust of miracles.

　　That simple that was myself, half conscious,

　　as though each moment was a page

　　where words appeared; the bent hammer of the type

　　struck against the moving ribbon.

　　The light air, the restless leaves;

　　the ripple of time warped by our longing.

　　There, as if we were painted

　　by some unknown impressionist.

　　春之美神

　　露絲斯通

　　被擯棄的校園，

　　空空的磚瓦房當六月初

　　你來看望我;

　　穿行於州際途中，

　　束帶般的小路伸延，

　　提著你的便攜打字機搭車。

　　校園，一個樹林的學院，

　　在樹下有些，我想是風的手，

　　已經消散了千百

　　春之美神的蒼白光線，

　　花瓣染上桃紅色的血管;

　　祕密的，為它們自己開放。

　　我們坐在它們中間。

　　你那修長的手指，清瘦的身材，

　　和未必會是天才的長骨;

　　一些象卡夫卡肯定有的分散的基因。

　　你深沉的嗓音，通行奇妙塵間。

　　單純如我，神志半醒，

　　似乎每一瞬間都是詞語出現之頁;

　　彎型字錘撞擊移動的色帶。

　　清淡的空氣，煩躁的樹葉;

　　我們的渴望翹曲起時間的微瀾。

　　在那裡，好象我們被

　　幾個無名印象派畫家繪入了畫面。

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