外国著名诗人的经典语录英语
诗人笔若
笔若这10句经典语录说出了诗人的责任。
1.哪怕我的诗歌没有得到世人的认可，作为一个读者的你，是否看得见我的文字正在黑夜中独自摸索。
2.我认为：诗人是一位置身于人群中的孤者，而诗歌是我的每一个脚趾，哪怕路再凉、再远我也会坚持走下去，即便最终我不再是一位诗人。
3.如果要让诗歌成为我生命中的一部分，那么唯一的一个途径就是放弃诗歌，最终看自己到底失去了多少！
4.诗歌原本就是一种体裁，而真正能够支撑起诗歌的是一种精神和一种奉献。
5.如果把自己的一生写成一首诗歌，那么这首诗歌你将会写给谁？给自己还是给众人呢？这将是决定你为什么要创作诗歌的必要条件。
6.读书或者读诗，都是调剂单调生活的绝好途径，但不是唯一途径。我只能说他是最好的途径，如能幸与一类相近之人同心、同兴、同行，是一种莫大的幸福和感动。
7.作为读者，我们应当去尊重每一个人的作品，因为这些作品的背后，不管经历了多少，归根结底，别人主动迈出了第一步以诗歌的形式去分享。
8. 诗歌之所以在当代文坛一直处于低落的状态，主要原因不是在创作的题材，而是因为诗歌的本质上就有不少的缺陷。而当代诗人应该想的是怎么样去弥补它，这也是作为诗人身上应该承担的一种责任。
9.有些时候，诗歌就像一个服务于人群的商业产品，会随着时代的变化以及经济发展水平而变动，这就是之所以在当代21世纪有纷纷群起各大派别诗歌的主要原因。
10.我不会仅仅因为对诗歌的爱好而去创作诗歌，因为现当代所谓的诗歌“市场”已经不再是新诗崛起的那个年代了，人类的喜新厌旧并不是用一首诗歌或是用一生的精力去就能改变的。
责任编辑：罗杰
我推荐下面几位诗人和他们的诗，都是熟篇目。 1、W。B。Yeats（威廉姆·巴特·叶芝，英国）这是我最喜欢的英国诗人了。推荐一首短的吧。 He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven Had I heavens’embroidered cloths， Enwrought with golden and silver light。 The blue and the dim and the dark cloths， Of night and light and the half light。 I would spread the cloths under your feet, But I, being poor, have only my dreams。 I have spread my dreams under your feet, Tread softly because you tread on my dreams。 天国的嫁衣 如有天孙锦， 愿为君铺地。 镶金复镶银， 明暗日夜继。 家贫锦难求， 唯有以梦替。 践履慎轻置， 吾梦不堪碎。 （和很多人一样，这首诗我最喜欢的也是居浩然的译笔，不仅达意，而且很古雅。 ） 2、Percy Bysshe Shelley（这个就是著名的雪莱了，英国人） The Cloud I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams。 From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother&aposs breast, As she dances about the sun。 I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder。 云（节选） 我为焦渴的鲜花，从河川，从海洋 带来清新的甘霖； 我为绿叶披上淡淡的凉荫，当他们 从我的翅膀上摇落露珠，去唤醒 每一朵香甜的蓓蕾， 当她们的母亲绕太阳旋舞时摇晃着 使她们在怀里入睡。 我挥动冰雹的连枷，把绿色的原野 捶打得有如银装素裹， 再用雨水把冰雪消溶，我轰然大笑， 当我在雷声中走过。 （故意没有推荐《西风颂》。 ） 3、Willam Wordsworth（华兹华斯，英国人，湖畔诗派的著名诗人） We Are Seven A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head。 She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair; —Her beauty made me glad。 ‘Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?’ ‘How many? Seven in all,’ she said, And wondering looked at me。 ‘And where are they? I pray you tell。’ She answered, ‘Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea。 ‘Two of us in the church-yard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the church-yard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother。 ’ ‘You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet ye are seven!—I pray you tell, Sweet Maid, how this may be。 ’ Then did the little Maid reply, ‘Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree。 ’ ‘You run above, my little Maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the church-yard laid, Then ye are only five。 ’ ‘Their graves are green, they may be seen,’ The little Maid replied, ‘Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door, And they are side by side。 ‘My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit, And sing a song to them。 ‘And often after sun-set, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there。 ‘The first that died was sister Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away。 ‘So in the church-yard she was laid; And, when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I 。 ‘And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side。 ’ ‘How many are you, then,’ said I, ‘If they two are in heaven?’ Quick was the little Maid’s reply, ‘O Master! we are seven。 ’ ‘But they are dead; those two are dead! Their spirits are in heaven!’ ’Twas throwing words away; for still The little Maid would have her will, And said, ‘Nay, we are seven!’ “我们七个” 一个单纯的小孩， 他呼吸，轻快无比， 每只手脚都充满了生命， 他哪管什么叫死。 我碰到一个小女孩， 住乡下小屋，说她八岁。 她有着一头乱发， 在头上，一一下坠。 她一派乡野土气， 穿着随便失体， 她眼睛漂亮、真漂亮， ——她的美使我欢喜。 “小姑娘啊，”我问道， “你可有几个兄弟姊妹？” “几个呢？一共七个。”她答道， 看着我，奇怪有什么不对。 “告诉我，他们都在哪儿？” 她答道：“一共七位， 两个去航海， 两个住康卫。 “哥哥姐姐两个， 埋在坟里。 靠近他们，那小屋 妈妈和我住在一起。” “你说两个去航海， 两个住康卫。 但你们有七个， 可爱的姑娘，这有点不对。” 小姑娘还是照说： “我们七个不差。” （这是胡虚一、李敖译的） 4、Emily Dickinson（艾米莉·狄金森，美国人，一个女隐者） I DIED For Beauty I died for beauty - but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When one who died for Truth, was lain In the adjoining Room – He questioned softly “ Why I failed” ? “ For beauty”, I replied – “ And I – for Truth – Themself are One We Brethren, are”, He said – And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night – We talked between the Rooms – Until the Moss had reached our lips – And convered up – our names – 我为美而死 我为美而死，对坟墓 几乎还不适应 一个殉真理的烈士 就成了我的近邻— 他轻声问我“为什么倒下”？ 我回答他：“为了美”— 他说：“我为真理，真与美— 是一体，我们是兄弟”— 就这样，像亲人，黑夜相逢— 我们隔着房间谈心— 直到苍苔长上我们的嘴唇— 覆盖掉，我们的姓名— （这首诗的译本很多，但我最喜欢这一个。 它很朴素。） 5、T。S。Eliot（艾略特，美国人） The Waste Land I。 THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain。 Winter kept us warm, covering 5 Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers。 Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10 And drank coffee, and talked for an hour。 Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch。 And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened。 He said, Marie, 15 Marie, hold on tight。 And down we went。 In the mountains, there you feel free。 I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter。 What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20 You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water。 Only There is shadow under this red rock, 25 (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust。 30 Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu。 Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du? 'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; 35 'They called me the hyacinth girl。 ' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40 Looking into the heart of light, the silence。 Od' und leer das Meer。 Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, 45 With a wicked pack of cards。 Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes。 Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations。 50 Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see。 I do not find The Hanged Man。 Fear death by water。 55 I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring。 Thank you。 If you see dear Mrs。 Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days。 Unreal City, 60 Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many。 Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet。 65 Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine。 There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson! 'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70 'That corpse you planted last year in your garden, 'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? 'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed? 'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men, 'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again! 75 'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!' 荒原 一、死者的葬礼 四月最残忍，从死了的 土地滋生丁香，混杂着 回忆和欲望，让春雨 挑动着呆钝的根。 冬天保我们温暖，把大地 埋在忘怀的雪里，使干了的 球茎得一点点生命。 夏天来得意外，随着一阵骤雨 到了斯坦伯吉西；我们躲在廊下， 等太阳出来，便到郝夫加登 去喝咖啡，又闲谈了一点钟。 我不是俄国人，原籍立陶宛，是纯德国种。 我们小时侯，在大公家做客， 那是我表兄，他带我出去滑雪撬， 我害怕死了。他说，玛丽，玛丽， 抓紧了呵。 于是我们冲下去。 在山中，你会感到舒畅。 我大半夜看书，冬天去到南方。 这是什么根在抓着，是什么树杈 从这片乱石里长出来？人子呵， 你说不出，也猜不着，因为你只知道 一堆破碎的形象，受着太阳拍击， 而枯树没有阴凉，蟋蟀不使人轻松， 干石头发不出流水的声音。 只有 一片阴影在这红色的岩石下， （来吧，请走进这红岩石下的阴影） 我要指给你一件事，它不同于 你早晨的影子，跟在你后面走 也不象你黄昏的影子，起来迎你， 我要指给你恐惧是在一撮尘土里。 风儿吹得清爽， 吹向我的家乡， 我的爱尔兰孩子， 如今你在何方？ “一年前你初次给了我风信子， 他们都叫我风信子女郎。 ” ——可是当我们从风信子花园走回，天晚了， 你的两臂抱满，你的头发是湿的， 我说不出话来，两眼看不见，我 不生也不死，什么也不知道， 看进光的中心，那一片沉寂。 荒凉而空虚是那大海。 索索斯垂丝夫人，著名的相命家， 患了重感冒，但仍然是 欧洲公认的最有智慧的女人， 她有一副鬼精灵的纸牌。 这里，她说， 你的牌，淹死的腓尼基水手， （那些明珠曾经是他的眼睛。看！） 这是美女贝拉磨娜，岩石的女人， 有多种遭遇的女人。 这是有三根杖的人，这是轮盘， 这是独眼商人，还有这张牌 是空白的，他拿来背在背上， 不许我看见。 我找不到。 那绞死的人。小心死在水里。 我看见成群的人，在一个圈里转。 谢谢你。如果你看见伊奎通太太， 就说我亲自把星象图带过去： 这年头人得万事小心呵。 不真实的城， 在冬天早晨棕黄色的雾下， 一群人流过伦敦桥，呵，这么多 我没有想到死亡毁灭了这么多。 叹息，隔一会短短地嘘出来， 每个人的目光都盯着自己的脚。 流上小山，流下威廉王大街， 直到圣玛丽·乌尔诺教堂，在那里 大钟正沉沉桥着九点的最后一响。 那儿我遇到一个熟人，喊住他道： “史太森！你记得我们在麦来船上！ 去年你种在你的花园里的尸首， 它发芽了吗？今年能开花吗？ 还是突然霜冻搅乱了它的花床？ 哦，千万把狗撵开，那是人类之友， 不然他会用爪子又把它掘出来！ 你呀，伪善的读者——我的同类，我的兄弟！” （这首诗一共有五节，这只是第一节） 以上都是很有名的英语诗人和作品，应该足够当作作业。 如果您的老师对此表示怀疑——呃，她/他真是英语老是么？ 我用心给您找到答案，如果您能真正读一读并喜欢它们，我会非常高兴：）。