關於優秀英語詩歌導讀

　　英語詩歌語言淺顯,節奏感很強,且內容豐富,能為學生提供獨特的魅力,創造優美的意境,因此英語詩歌有利於激發學生的學習動機,培養學生的學習興趣,改善英語學習效果。下面是小編帶來的關於優秀英語詩歌，歡迎閱讀!

　　關於優秀英語詩歌篇一

　　Whatever You Say, Say Nothing

　　Seamus Heaney

　　"Religion's never mentioned here", of course.

　　"You know them by their eyes," and hold your tongue.

　　"One side's as bad as the other," never worse.

　　Christ, it's near time that some small leak was sprung

　　In the great dykes the Dutchman made

　　To dam the dangerous tide that followed Seamus.

　　Yet for all this art and sedentary trade

　　I am incapable. The famous

　　Northern reticence, the tight gag of place

　　And times: yes, yes. Of the "wee six" I sing

　　Where to be saved you only must save face

　　And whatever you say, you say nothing.

　　Smoke-signals are loud-mouthed compared with us:

　　Manoeuvrings to find out name and school,

　　Subtle discrimination by addresses

　　With hardly an exception to the rule

　　That Norman, Ken and Sidney signalled Prod

　　And Seamus ***call me Sean*** was sure-fire Pape.

　　O land of password, handgrip, wink and nod,

　　Of open minds as open as a trap,

　　Where tongues lie coiled, as under flames lie wicks,

　　Where half of us, as in a wooden horse

　　Were cabin'd and confined like wily Greeks,

　　Besieged within the siege, whispering morse.

　　關於優秀英語詩歌篇二

　　From The Frontier Of Writing

　　Seamus Heaney

　　The tightness and the nilness round that space

　　when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect

　　its make and number and, as one bends his face

　　towards your window, you catch sight of more

　　on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent

　　down cradled guns that hold you under cover

　　and everything is pure interrogation

　　until a rifle motions and you move

　　with guarded unconcerned acceleration--

　　a little emptier, a little spent

　　as always by that quiver in the self,

　　subjugated, yes, and obedient.

　　So you drive on to the frontier of writing

　　where it happens again. The guns on tripods;

　　the sergeant with his on-off mike repeating

　　data about you, waiting for the squawk

　　of clearance; the marksman training down

　　out of the sun upon you like a hawk.

　　And suddenly you're through, arraigned yet freed,

　　as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall

　　on the black current of a tarmac road

　　past armor-plated vehicles, out between

　　the posted soldiers flowing and receding

　　like tree shadows into the polished windscreen.

　　關於優秀英語詩歌篇三

　　Digging

　　Seamus Heaney

　　Between my finger and my thumb

　　The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

　　Under my window a clean rasping sound

　　When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:

　　My father, digging. I look down

　　Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds

　　Bends low, comes up twenty years away

　　Stooping in rhythm through potato drills

　　Where he was digging.

　　The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft

　　Against the inside knee was levered firmly.

　　He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

　　To scatter new potatoes that we picked

　　Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

　　By God, the old man could handle a spade,

　　Just like his old man.

　　My grandfather could cut more turf in a day

　　Than any other man on Toner's bog.

　　Once I carried him milk in a bottle

　　Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up

　　To drink it, then fell to right away

　　Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods

　　Over his shoulder, digging down and down

　　For the good turf. Digging.

　　The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap

　　Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge

　　Through living roots awaken in my head.

　　But I've no spade to follow men like them.

　　Between my finger and my thumb

　　The squat pen rests.

　　I'll dig with it.

　　挖掘

　　在我手指和大拇指中間

　　一支粗壯的筆躺著，舒適自在像一支槍。

　　我的窗下，一個清晰而粗厲的響聲

　　鐵鏟切進了礫石累累的土地：

　　我爹在挖土。我向下望

　　看到花坪間他正使勁的臀部

　　彎下去，伸上來，二十年來

　　穿過白薯壟有節奏地俯仰著，

　　他在挖土。

　　粗劣的靴子踩在鐵鏟上，長柄

　　貼著膝頭的內側有力地撬動，

　　他把表面一層厚土連根掀起，

　　把鐵鏟發亮的一邊深深埋下去，

　　使新薯四散，我們撿在手中，

　　愛它們又涼又硬的味兒。

　　說真的，這老頭子使鐵鏟的巧勁

　　就像他那老頭子一樣。

　　我爺爺的土納的泥沼地

　　一天挖的泥炭比誰個都多。

　　有一次我給他送去一瓶牛奶，

　　用紙團鬆鬆地塞住瓶口。他直起腰喝了，馬上又幹開了，

　　利索地把泥炭截短，切開，把土.

　　撩過肩，為找好泥炭，

　　一直向下，向下挖掘。

　　白薯地的冷氣，潮溼泥炭地的

　　咯吱聲、咕咕聲，鐵鏟切進活薯根的短促聲響

　　在我頭腦中迴盪。

　　但我可沒有鐵鏟像他們那樣去幹。

　　在我手指和大拇指中間

　　那支粗壯的筆躺著。

　　我要用它去挖掘。