美麗的情詩欣賞
美麗情詩源自美麗愛情，沒有愛情就不會有這些動人詩篇。下面就是小編給大家整理的篇，希望大家喜歡。
篇1：不要再問我
托馬斯·卡洛***英***
當六月過去，玫瑰凋殘，
別再問我，愛神在哪裡。
你的美麗是那麼燦爛，
這些花兒，
就在他的根部熟睡。
別再問我，是否漂泊
白天金色的陽光;
那是純潔愛情的天空
那些粉末可以裝飾你的秀髮。
當五月悄然離去，
別再問我，夜鶯在哪裡
你那甜蜜的歌喉，
在冬季，溫暖著她的音符。
別再問我，明亮的繁星，
夜晚落在哪裡;
他們就在你的眼中，
固定在那裡，猶如在他們的家。
Ask Me No More
Thomas Carew***1595-1645***
Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty’s orient deep,
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale, when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those stars light,
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become, as in their sphere.
篇2：當你老了
威廉·巴特勒·葉芝***愛爾蘭***
當你老了，頭白了，睡意昏沉，
爐火旁打盹，請取下這部詩歌，
慢慢讀，回想你過去眼神的柔和，
回想它們昔日濃重的陰影;
多少人愛你青春歡暢的時辰，
愛慕你的美麗，假意或真心，
只有一個人愛你那朝聖者的靈魂，
愛你衰老了的臉上痛苦的皺紋;
垂下頭來，在紅光閃耀的爐子旁，
悽然地輕輕訴說那愛情的消逝，
在頭頂的山上它緩緩踱著步子，
在一群星星中間隱藏著臉龐。
When You are Old
William Butler Yeats***1865-1939***
When you are old and gray,
and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire,
take down this book,
And slowly read,
and dream of the soft look,
Your eyes had once,
and of their shadows deep.
How many loved your moments
of glad grace,
And loved your beauty
with love false or true ,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows
of your changing face.
And bending down
beside the glowing bars,
Murmur,a little sadly,how love fled,
And paced
upon the mountains overhead，
And hid his face
amid a crowd of stars.
篇3：致愛人
威廉·莎士比亞 ***英***
在那風化了的時代的紀年，
我看到對絕代佳人的描述，
古老的韻律因美麗而變得絕妙，
讚頌著薄命的紅顏，多情的騎士;
在這傾國傾城的描繪中，
那手腳、嘴脣、眼眸及眉額，
這古老筆下的描畫都讓我感覺，
這一切的美貌，如今皆為你所有。
於是，他們所有的讚頌不過預言
我們的時代，一切都將你預示;
而他們所見無非用那推測的眼，
竭盡才華也無法將你盡致讚頌，
而有幸得見今日時光的我們，
只用那眼驚歎，卻無法開口歌頌。
To His Love
William Shakespeare***1564-1616***
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights;
Then in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have exprest
Ev’n such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they look’d but with divining eyes,
They had not kill
enough your worth to sing:
For we,
which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder,
but lack tongues to praise.
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