قصائد أجنبية

,A Route of Evanescence –With a revolving Wheel  A Resonance of Emerald –A Rush of Cochineal 

Fairer through Fading — as the Day —Into the Darkness dips away  —Half Her Complexion of the Sun  —Hindering — Haunting — Perishing 

—An awful Tempest mashed the air —The clouds were gaunt, and few A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak .Hid Heaven and Earth from view

–After great pain, a formal feeling comes –The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs ’,The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore ?’And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before

,In the dungeon-crypts idly did I stray ;Reckless of the lives wasting there away “!Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern” .He dared not say me nay–the hinges harshly turn

.The evening passes fast away“ ;Tis almost time to rest’ ,What thoughts has left the vanished day ?What feelings in thy breast

?They asked me 'A you sitting down 'Right? This is Universal Lotteries ,they said. 'You've won the top prize .the Ultra-super Global Special

You can invest everything in someone. This one feeling chopping you up. Anyone can go into the night. I just want to be gone. I want to be unknown. There’s a storm coming. Euphoria trapped in a vial ... 

هي قصيدة للشاعرة إيلا ويلر ويلكوكس، تصف القصيدة حقائق الحياة بمصطلحات عالمية ويقلل من تأثيرها من خلال التأكيد على طبيعتها المتكررة.   ملخص قصيدة The Year   هي عبارة عن قصيدة من ستة مقطوعات مقسمة إلى مجموعات من سطرين، والمعروفين أيضًا باسم مقاطع، اختارت ويلكوكس هيكلة هذه القطعة بمخطط قافية متسق، وهي تتبع نمط (aa […]

Methinks, ’tis strange you can’t afford ;One pitying look, one parting word ,Humanity claims this as due ?But what’s humanity to you

,It was only a film Perhaps I shall say later Forgetting the story, left only With bright images- the blazing dawn

When I was happy alone, too young for love Or to be loved in any but a way Cloudless and gentle, I would find the day .Long as I wished its length or web to weave

You are confronted with yourself. Each year .The pouches fill, the skin is uglier You give it all unflinchingly. You stare

.An Owl’s call scrapes the stillness Curtains are barriers and behind them .The beds settle into neat rows .Soon they’ll be ruffled

I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook .fast in a corner of his mouth

.September rain falls on the house In the failing light, the old grandmother sits in the kitchen with the child ,beside the Little Marvel Stove

I am in need of music that would flow ,Over my fretful, feeling fingertips ,Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips .With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow

,I MIND me in the days departed How often underneath the sun With childish bounds I used to run .To a garden long deserted

,Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east .And one of them shot in the west by the sea Dead ! both my boys ! When you sit at the feast

;I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless  ,That only men incredulous of despair  Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air 

Right now two black people sit in a jury room in Southern California trying to persuade nine white people that what they saw when four white

,Avoid the reeking herd  ,Shun the polluted flock  ,Live like that stoic bird  .The eagle of the rock

,When foxes eat the last gold grape ,And the last white antelope is killed I shall stop fighting and escape .Into a little house I’ll build

Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal ,There where the vines cling crimson on the wall .And in the twilight wait for what will come

Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead Hang stars like seeds of light In vain, though not since they were sown was bred

Is this the road that climbs above and bends ‎‏Round what was once a chalk-pit: now it is ‎‏.By accident an amphitheatre

Tall nettles cover up, as they have done These many springs, the rusty harrow, the plough :Long worn out, and the roller made of stone

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me Remembering again that I shall die

,Said the Table to the Chair ,You can hardly be aware‘ ,How I suffer from the heat‘ !And from chilblains on my feet

I am so small walking on the beach .at night under the widening sky The wet sand quickens beneath my feet .and the waves thunder against the shore