经典英文诗歌阅读三篇

经典英文诗歌阅读三篇

【篇一】经典英文诗歌阅读

What Wild-Eyed Murderer

by Peter Meinke

We shouldn‘t worship suffering：the world’s

a spinning rack where suffering indicates

all goes well we‘re alive and not curled

up in the black hushhush death dictates

as its first condition： no screaming there

We crown ourselves with thorns of past transgressions Sharp spears of deed spare

no rib of pain： around the cross crashed common lightning usual blood Who earns

our reverence should break both cross and crutch in the face of suffering： while the rack turns and tightens they‘ll smile at the sense of touch Suffering‘s too common to be worth

anything joy too rare to be priced

The saints we search for will embrace the earth：what wild-eyed murderer suffers less than Christ?

【篇二】经典英文诗歌阅读

What the Chairman Told Tom

by Basil Bunting

Poetry? It's a hobby.

I run model trains.

Mr. Shaw there breeds pigeons.

It's not work. You dont sweat.

Nobody pays for it.

You could advertise soap.

Art， that's opera; or repertory——The Desert Song.

Nancy was in the chorus.

But to ask for twelve pounds a week——married， aren't you?——

you've got a nerve.

How could I look a bus conductor

in the face

if I paid you twelve pounds?

Who says it's poetry， anyhow?

My ten year old

can do it and rhyme.

I get three thousand and expenses，

a car， vouchers，

but I'm an accountant.

They do what I tell them，

my company.

What do you do?

Nasty little words， nasty long words，

it's unhealthy.

I want to wash when I meet a poet.

They're Reds， addicts，

all delinquents.

What you write is rot.

Mr. Hines says so， and he's a schoolteacher，he ought to know.

Go and find work

【篇三】经典英文诗歌阅读

Diving into the Wreck

by Adrienne Rich

First having read the book of myths，

and loaded the camera，

and checked the edge of the knife-blade，

I put on

the body-armor of black rubber

the absurd flippers

the grave and awkward mask.

I am having to do this

not like Cousteau with his assiduous team

aboard the sun-flooded schooner but here alone.

There is a ladder.

The ladder is always there hanging innocently

close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for，

we who have used it.

Otherwise

it is a piece of maritime floss some sundry equipment.

I go down.

Rung after rung and still

the oxygen immerses me