قصيدة For My Grandmother Knitting
There is no need they say but the needles still move their rhythms in the working of your hands as easily
There is no need they say but the needles still move their rhythms in the working of your hands as easily
when I look into the fragile faces ,of those I love
هو تشارلز كوزلي (Charles Causley) ولد في عام 1917 ونشأ في لونسيستون كورنوال وعاش هناك معظم حياته، وعندما كان في السابعة من عمره فقط توفي والده متأثرا بجروح
,It passed like the breath of the night-wind away ;It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day ,It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled .Another increase to the age of the world
هي ريتا دوف (Rita Dove) ولدت في مدينة أكرون بولاية أوهايو، وهي ابنة أحد أوائل الكيميائيين السود في صناعة الإطارات، تم تشجيعها على القراءة في نطاق واسع من قبل والديها
هو سياران كارسون ولد في عام 1948 وهو مؤلف لتسعة كتب شعرية وأربعة أعمال نثرية، وفاز بالعديد من الجوائز بما في ذلك جائزة "Irish Times Irish Literature"، وجائزة "TS Eliot"
Once I lived the life of a millionaire Spending my money and I didn’t care Taking my friends out for a mighty fine time Drinking high priced liquor, champagne and wine
Do you remember that wild stretch of land with the lone tree guarding the point ?from the sharp-tongued sea
.He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher .He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher .His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar .My father was a Communist Party full-time worker
,Like many folk, when first I saddled a rucksack – feeling its weight on my back the way my spine – curved under it like a meridian
All legendary obstacles lay between ,Us, the long imaginary plain The monstrous ruck of mountains ,And, swinging across the night
هو "Philip Larkin" شاعر بريطاني ولد في كوفنتري بإنجلترا عام (1922)، وكان أحد أشهر شعراء إنجلترا في فترة ما بعد الحرب، وحصل على درجة البكالوريوس من "St"
I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut That will solve a murder case unsolved for years Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window Through which he saw her head, connecting with
A planet doesn’t explode of itself," said drily" .The Martian astronomer, gazing off into the air
,Do you give yourself to me utterly Body and no-body, flesh and no-flesh ,Not as a fugitive, blindly or bitterly ?But as a child might, with no other wish
,There was a naughty boy ,A naughty boy was he ,He would not stop at home -He could not quiet be
,Gee Gee, your daddy told me how you fare ,Since April stole your song of sweet sixteen ,Your still life, limp and lifeless, lying there ,Another day of June no speech will bring
For the first twenty years since yesterday ;I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away ,For forty more I fed on favors past .And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last
Way Down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me) They hung my black young lover .To a cross roads tree
When ocean-clouds over inland hills ,Sweep storming in late autumn brown ,And horror the sodden valley fills ,And the spire falls crashing in the town
No permanence is ours; we are a wave :That flows to fit whatever form it finds Through day or night, cathedral or the cave .We pass forever, craving form that binds
As every flower fades and as all youth ,Departs, so life at every stage ,So every virtue, so our grasp of truth .Blooms in its day and may not last forever
Let me pour forth ,My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here ,For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear ,And by this mintage they are something worth
,We started speaking .Looked at each other, then turned away .The tears kept rising to my eyes .But I could not weep
High on a bright and sunny bed A scarlet poppy grew ,And up it held its staring head .And thrust it full in view
Still, I keep myself, I take to bed. One lung is red. Cut red .flowers hung in pink water
تمت كتابة هذه القصيدة للشاعر آرثر أوشوغنيسي ونشرها في عام 1873، كتبت في العصر الفيكتوري العالي وهي قصيدة عن القومية الإنجليزية، الروح الفيكتورية هي التي تجعل القصيدة أكثر بهجة وتجديدًا للقراءة
,About my husband, the clown ?what could I say
في هذه القصيدة يوجه بيلي كولينز روح الكلب المتوفى ويخرب العلاقة المقبولة بين الإنسان وصديقه المقرب، يسخر الشاعر إلى حد ما بشكل هزلي من أصحاب الحيوانات الأليفة المعاصرين، وبالتالي الأشخاص المعاصرين عمومًا
!There they go marching all in step so gay .Smooth-cheeked and golden, food for shells and guns ,Blithely they go as to a wedding day .The mothers' sons