優秀經典英語詩歌欣賞

　　詩歌是一種運用高度精練、有韻律且富有意象化的語言抒發情感的文學樣式,是具有一定外在形式的語言藝術。小編精心收集了優秀經典英語詩歌，供大家欣賞學習!

　　優秀經典英語詩歌：School of Practical Dissection

　　Kenny Williams

　　In the hands of the priest

　　the heart has to break

　　like crockery, for a single man,

　　not the human race

　　which we love into oblivion

　　and despise in general.

　　In the hands of the anatomist

　　it leaps, the heart, like a trout --

　　small, brown, and poached --

　　at the end of the line.

　　Faster students than our teachers,

　　we feel like boys playing hooky,

　　just wetting our toes

　　in the landlord's river,

　　passing his jug from

　　mouth to mouth.

　　優秀經典英語詩歌：The Dream of a Little Occupied Japan Doll

　　Kimiko Hahn

　　Among the hundred porcelain figurines,

　　the first one -- with slanted eyes, fat cheeks,

　　queue ***though that's Chinese***, and Chinese bonnet --

　　is my favorite. Among all those in pajamas

　　or gowns or the two in kimono,

　　the first is my favorite. Of those with rickshaw,

　　tambourine, or parasol and fan --

　　I keep on my desk the first one

　　though she -- or he -- is not doing a darn thing.

　　Here in sleep, rivalry is reserved.

　　And as dreams "tune the mind for conscious awareness"

　　perhaps this favoritism suggests

　　I've quit hoarding and now collect myself.

　　For Alice and Laurie

　　優秀經典英語詩歌：About Opera

　　Geoffrey Brock

　　Fuggirmi io sol non so

　　In the real world, lighting is undesigned;

　　here it's high art. After we find our seats,

　　silence our cells and smooth our ruffled minds,

　　and just before the curtains rise, houselights

　　go out. We vanish, and before our eyes

　　adjust, a splendid spectacle begins

　　in which we're borne, again, into the lives

　　of others -- figures whose shaded joys and pains

　　might be, for these three hours, ours. Yet

　　what can we hope to understand of them?

　　Words in a strange, old tongue ***il fazzoletto!***

　　shine through the wordless music as through a scrim

　　by turns opaque and blindingly transparent --

　　words whose sources are masks, mouths gaping wide.

　　Still, some intelligence like a welder's current

　　leaps the orchestra pit ***where shadows hide

　　that pulsing drum, those lacerating strings***,

　　and something is spilling, something even grander,

　　perhaps, than life, from the woman who now sings,

　　now dies, as passion fills white space around her,

　　fills us, and tears are spilling down our faces --

　　there's too much light, it's all too brightly lit!

　　Kind curtains fall, and a governed dark replaces

　　all light but the glow of the pages in the pit.